


Heaven from Hell

by SnowF



Series: Blood, Powder, Steel and Sand [2]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, As well as Joshua went it comes to torturous mind, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Mention of rapes/abuse, NSFW, PTSD, Physical Trauma, Psychological Trauma, Scars, Self-Hatred, Seriously the Legion is its actual warning, murders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-11 00:56:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7018123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowF/pseuds/SnowF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julia, Iulia, Six... Three names, three deaths, three rebirths. Each times, things got more and more awful. She couldn't go like this anymore. She couldn't accept it. So she fled the Legion, fled the Mojave but, once again, fate stepped in and, once again, she's reborn in Zion, the valley of the last New-Canaanites... The valley of a former Legate she promised herself to destroy, years ago. But the Burned Man has things to tell her, things to teach her - after all, doesn't he have the same voices in his head than her ?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer : All rights belong to their owner.
> 
> Spoilers : This fiction doesn't really spoil anything, but it deals with post-NV/Honest Hearts events. 
> 
> Rating : M, for strong language, occasional sexual content and violence.
> 
> A/N : Julia/Iulia/Six is a personal building which affects the course of the story. Anyway, as my mother language is not English, I may or may not do spelling/grammar/conjugation/syntax mistakes, and I'm sorry if it disturbs you too much. I wish you a great reading, feel free to comment at any time !

  **Heaven from Hell**

* * *

**I**

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a fabric. A ceiling made of fabric. _I’m in a tent,_ she deduced. Her vision was blurry, her head was pounding. She remembered nothing of what happened. _Again._ Her heart started to beat faster, almost too fast. _Okay, the basics. I come from the Mojave, I was going east to leave everything behind. My name is…_ No, she didn’t have a name anymore. She sighed with relief. At least this time she hadn’t forgotten everything. Except what had led her in this tent, on this camp bed. She tried to sit, winced and lay down again. Whatever had happened, it was violent. She remembered an explosion, the caravan shattered around her and then… And then this.

She had no idea where she was. She didn’t even know if she was alive or not – she just knew that her whole body hurt too much to be dead. It took her a while but she eventually stood up and walked out of the tent very carefully. There was no one around, and mostly nothing except some fires, some tents and wooden benches. She walked idly around the camp, trying to get a hint of what was going on here. _Why am I alone? Is this the purgatory?_

“You’re awake,” some masculine voice said behind her. She turned around to face its owner. He was sitting on a chair, at the top of a small rock cliff. She couldn’t really distinguish his face in the dark. “And alive, as it seems.

\- That… Is pretty obvious. Unless it’s hell and I’m dead.  
\- God doesn’t want you yet, apparently.”

She walked toward him, climbed the cliff. The man was fixing guns — _.45, probably_ , without looking at her. His face was covered with white bandages, as well as his neck, hands and every inch of skin she could see. _What the… Oh Lord._ She blinked when she understood who she was talking to. A legend – an infamous one.

The man was Joshua Graham, the Malpais Legate. The man Caesar had burned after the first battle of Hoover Dam – a man that was supposed to be long dead. It was an open secret, though, that he had survived and that he was living in Utah with what remained of the New-Canaanites. She’d personally sent some of her Frumentarii back before the bullet to chase him. None of them had returned. She’d told Vulpes that they would go find him at some point, to bring his severed head to Caesar. _And here I am, finally in front of the most hated man in the Legion._ Too bad that the Legion was probably already no more.

 "What happened? I was in a caravan and then…

\- You got attacked by White Legs remnants,” he answered. “They destroyed your caravan and killed your group. I don’t know if you were close to them, but you have my sympathy.  
\- How did I survive? Who found me?  
\- One of my men. He was patrolling when they attacked you. They left you for dead but you seem to have a thick skull.”

_You don’t say._ She looked down at herself. She wasn’t wearing her clothes – she was in some kinds of military outfit, some suit that looked like his. She wondered who had taken off her clothes, and realized that most of them were from the Legion. She froze. _Maybe he hasn’t seen them. Maybe they all burned._ It was all she could hope for; she was pretty sure the guy wasn’t much into Legion stuff anymore. She brushed the scar on her forehead and sighed.

“Yeah. So I've been told.

\- I’m not surprised, given how many scars you have.” He finally raised his eyes on her. He had astonishing blue eyes. _Why do you Legion guys all have blue eyes?_ “It’s unusual for a woman to be so scarred.  
\- It’s not the most unusual thing about me, I assure you.  
\- No, indeed. The most surprising things were your clothes and your weapons. They come from Caesar’s Legion.”

_… Or not._ She sighed and ran a hand across her face. She used to want him dead, much like any other legionary of Caesar. She’d forgotten him completely after the bullet. She wasn’t a legionary anymore, even if she had been the new Caesar for a few months. The Legion itself was essentially a memory now. And still it ruined her life.

He didn’t turn his eyes, though, and stared at her patiently, waiting for her to reply. She had no idea what to say. _“Hey, yeah, well, I’ve been in the Legion for pretty much all my life and two years from now I would have chopped your head off. But I’m changed, you wouldn’t believe how much a bullet in the brain changes a woman!”_ Not really convincing, right?

“They do.

\- So what are you? A former slave?” She couldn’t tell if he was curious or furious – you don’t know the importance of eyebrows until the moment you face someone who has none. “You use their clothes, but your snatched the bull.  
\- Let’s say that I share quite a baggage with the Legion.  
\- Right.”

His eyes started to shine furiously. It wasn’t anger or curiosity anymore – it was cruelty. She’d already seen this gleam in many eyes. In Vulpes’, Caesar’s, hers. Mainly Vulpes’, though. She was used to it, it didn’t scare her anymore. It was the Legion’s trademark. She raised an eyebrow. For someone who nearly got killed by Caesar, he still acted much like one of his men.

“So what did they do to you? Did they kill all your family in front of your eyes? Was it your spouse? Your child?” His voice was raw, almost feral. “Is it why you were fleeing east?

_\- Quae sunt caesaris, caesari_ ,” she retorted. He blinked. “But I’m afraid you’re completely off beam.  
\- You know Latin. So who are you, scarred woman?  
\- Someone that would’ve killed you a year ago, Malpais Legate.”

They exchanged a long gaze. He was trying to figure out who she was and she was trying to figure out if she was going to be shot _again_ or not. He didn’t say anything and continue to inspect his guns without flinching. It was something she was used to, being mistaken for a Legion’s victim by actual members of said Legion – she was a woman, after all, and not the ugliest one. Even if she probably looked like a walking dead body at this point, there were still remnants of her original beauty. _I need to take a fucking long bath._

“The head of the Frumentarii who sent me all these men,” he said. She couldn’t see his lips, but it sounded like he was smiling wryly. “How’s Vulpes Inculta?

\- Pretty much like the entirety of the Legion.” She shrugged. “Dead.  
\- Dead? What happened to the Legion?  
\- I happened. Took control of it, then destroyed it all.  
\- Hard to believe,” Joshua noted. “When I remember that Caesar called you his heir.  
\- A bullet in the brain changes many things.”

His eyes turned to her scar. He nodded and put down the gun he was playing with. He took the bible that was put next to him and brushed the leathery cover. _It’s not going to change their fate, Legate._ She never quite understood the whole religious thing – she had never been a spiritual woman, it was one thing that never changed. Neither was Vulpes. They were way too practical and down-to-earth to even get the point of following such a restricted corpus of dated values. And way too cruel, back then, to even think of tolerating it.

“You did God’s work, then. Even if you don’t believe it.

\- Spare me your religious sermons, Graham,” she sighed. “It’s the third time I’m supposed to be dead and I’ve never seen any holy spirit.  
\- First time was this bullet of yours, third was this ambush… Second?  
\- When I killed Vulpes Inculta and he tried to kill me back. Really thought it was the end, but you may not be entirely wrong; your God does not want me. I must scare him.  
\- Or perhaps He’s the one you’re scared of.”

She rolled her eyes. _Why of course._ She knew that one of the two Legion founders, apart from Caesar, had been a Mormon missionary. The mere idea was hilarious, really; how could a man of God become such a monster? He was as guilty as the late Caesar for what they both did to the Mojave, the Arizona and so on. He had as much blood on his hand as him, if not more.

But she was hardly in position to lecture him, given the amount of blood she had on her wake, before and after the bullet. But she still knew that neither was he in such a position. Tired, her head still spinning, she rested on the table the guns were placed on and looked around. It was a cave, somehow made liveable. It wasn’t the cosiest place she’d ever seen – she missed her Lucky 38’s suite, even if it was the only thing she regretted from her departure.

“What is this place?

\- The shelter of Dead Horses and Sorrows’ tribes… And of a very few New-Canaanites. But that you must know, given that you’ve sent me your assassins.  
\- I had no idea you were living in a place called Zion,” she shrugged. “Plus, those tribes’ name are awfully depressing. A Mormon like you should have renamed them, I don’t know, Jesus and Mary’s people.  
\- I don’t get to choose how they’re called.  
\- Don’t fuck with me, Graham. You’re not one of them, you must be their warlord or something.”

If he had eyebrows, they would be frowned given the severity of his gaze. _As if it wasn’t obvious that a man like him would not be satisfied with this life._ He could well be a goody-two-shoes to those people, she knew what he was deep inside. And he was a rabid animal, a bloodthirsty monster. He was the same as her… Somehow.

She wondered if it was that easy to leave such a heavy past behind. If he really felt like nothing had ever happened, like he was some newly born man. If it was… Maybe her life wouldn’t be that hard. It was comforting. _Let’s just not forget that he’s been burned alive._ After all, she’d been killed three times. Wasn’t it just the same?

“I taught them how to fight, maintain weapon, be strategic,” Graham granted. “But I’m not a new Caesar, if that’s what you imply.

\- Am I? Why of course I’m not. We both know how disastrous your last experience with Caesarish stuff has been.  
\- I’d advised you not to forget that we saved you, nursed you and protected you while you were unconscious, young woman, and that I’m particularly skilled with those guns in front of me. They could be of some use if ever you’d get a little bit too much irreverent.  
\- Or,” she purred, taking one of them and inspecting it. “I could use one of them to finally kill you. For good old times’ sake, y’know." 

He snatched his gun from her hands and stood up to face her. He was taller than she’d imagined, broader too. The fire had not destroyed him as much as Caesar had probably expected it to. _Well, first and foremost he’s not dead._ She crossed her arms on her chest and looked at him. He was wearing a bulletproof vest, the pre-war kind. He wasn’t wrong when he said he could end her life. Tired and aching as she was, she wouldn’t be able to flee him for long and she absolutely didn’t know where the entrance of the cave was. And even so, she expected men to be guarding this entrance, those tribals he seemed to be so proud of. She laughed it off and smiled.

“Fortunately I have no desire to kill another Legion man, I’ve had enough of you guys’ blood on my hand.

\- Why did you do that? Caesar appreciated you, as far as I remember.  
\- He appreciated me as much as a man like him could appreciate a daughter he thought was a son,” she retorted with a sly smile. “The thing is, he never could imagine me capable of killing him to take his Legion over.  
\- You’re wrong. He knew you were capable, he just expected his men not to follow a woman.” He stopped and chuckled. “His face when he realized you were not a boy. I’ll never forget it.”

She couldn’t help but smile. She remembered it partly – her brain still wasn’t completely healed, but she remembered this face. He’d raped her mother during a raid against an enemy tribe but she’d managed to flee and found shelter in New Reno. Unfortunately for her, Caesar wasn’t a man to pardon offence. Frumentarii had been sent after her with the express order not to kill any potential _male_ child. She was dressed as a boy, back then, because they only had male clothes and her hair was cut short. The Frumentarii mistaked her for a boy and took her back to her father. She never tried to correct them – she was old enough as that time to understand that it was probably her only way to survive.

And they trained her like one of the other boys. She surprised them with her skills and everyone liked to say that it all came from her father. Even though she didn’t see him much, she knew who he was, what he did – her mother had been clear enough that he was a monster. But as time went by, she forgot everything she’d been told and got shaped into the perfect legionary… Except that she still was a woman. At some point, she couldn’t hide it anymore and some trainee spotted her bathing, bare-chested. _And his face!_ Everyone around didn’t know if they were supposed to laugh or to hide. She still was one of the most talented trainees and she still was his offspring. She passed three weeks in a cell and got fourty whippings for her lie. But after that, everything went back to normal. She even got promoted to the head of the Frumentarii with Vulpes Inculta.

“He was blinded by his pride,” he continued. “Everyone knew you were not a boy months, maybe years before him. I’ve seen it the day you were taken to the Fort.

\- And you didn’t say anything?  
\- I thought it was hilarious. And I wanted to see how he would react to you being… Well, a woman. It disappointed me that he didn’t kill you.  
\- I can go back on what I’ve just said about killing Legion men, you know.  
\- No, you can’t. Since you’ve been raised within the Legion’s ranks, you know that you don’t kill a man without a possibility to retreat.”

_He would know._ She shrugged. Of course she wasn’t going to kill him – she was there because she wanted to flee what had happened in the Mojave. Plus, he was right when he said he owed them a debt. She wasn’t much into this kind of goodness. But it didn’t change anything, did it? He sighed and shook his head, as if he couldn’t get a grasp of what this woman really was. _You’re not the only one who doesn’t understand me, pal._ He was going to speak again when men entered the cave. He frowned and spoke to them in a weird language. It didn’t sound like anything she’d heard before, even if she’d only heard Latin and the common language her whole life.

The men were glaring at her with curiosity and a bit of suspicion. She was standing really near their leader and even nearer his guns. She returned them their stare and they vanished into another section of the cave. They really looked primitive and, somehow, it disgusted her that this kind of man still existed. _Thanks Caesar for that._ She almost heard Vulpes’ voice calling them _degenerated profligates._ Her heart tightened. 

“So what are they? Dead horses or sad people?

\- Those are Dead Horses,” he gravely replied. “I recommend you to be a little bit more respectful with them. Even if you think they are barbarian, they’re quite capable of killing you all the same.  
\- Yeah, I guess they are. Do they speak our language?  
\- Most of them don’t. We’re trying to teach them, though.” He turned again to her. “You haven’t answered my question, Iulia. Why did you destroy the Legion?  
\- Don’t.” She froze and tensed. “Don’t call me like that.”

He blinked, genuinely surprised. She closed her eyes and sighed. It was almost painful to hear this name, as it was painful to hear someone speaking about this Courier Six that had driven the Mojave into utter chaos. _Even the number six for that matter._ Both of them were dead, only she remained. She had no name, or rather, she preferred not have one. Everytime she had one she destroyed something or someone.

“How do you want me to call you, then?

\- Don’t call me at all. I’m not staying anyway,” she said, eyes still closed. “And since you want an answer so much, I destroyed it because I couldn’t lead it

\- Why? I keep a striking memory of your wits, battle skills and strategy logic.

\- I’ve told you. A bullet in the brain changes a person.”

_More like amnesia changes a person, in my case._ She didn’t want to talk about it, let alone with him. He wouldn’t understand. No one could understand such a big turn towards pity and empathy from someone like her. He didn’t insist, though, and sat back in front of his guns. _Is the conversation over?_ She opened her eyes and stared at him. He acted like he didn’t know she was, focused on his repair-work.

“We’ll help you go back to the Mojave. Our scouts are busy right now, so it might take a couple of days but…

\- I don’t want to go back to the Mojave,” she said, frowning. “I’m going east. As far as I can.

\- East? There’s nothing east.

\- There must be. Plus, why do you care?”

Silence answered. _Why of course._ She shook her head. Looking at his guns, she realized she had no idea were her weapons were. Most of them weren’t exactly precious – they were just plain guns, but two of them… They had a value. They meant something and she hadn’t been able to give up on them. She gulped.

“Where are my weapons?

\- I’ll ask Daniel to give them to you,” he replied. “They’re not damaged, if that’s what you’re worried about.

\- I’m not worried.

\- You should have some rest, you’ve been down for quite a long time.”

_Conversation over, copy that._ She went down the cliff and went back into the tent she’d woken up in. It was mostly empty, except for the bed and a bag put next to the entrance. She went through it – it was hers. She found the food she’d taken in the Fort, her ammos, everything. No one had even touched anything. Somehow, it soothed her. Maybe she was wrong about them all. Maybe they were more civilized than meet the eye. _I seriously doubt that, though._ She wasn’t going to see any of them as an ally – or even as an actual human being until proven they were indeed trustworthy.

And Graham… Well, it was even worse. Of course if he wanted her death she would be dead by now, but she didn’t believe in the whole ‘I found God, I’m now a new man’ thing. _No one_ could be a new man after what he did. Because he did worse than her. _Obviously, he was in charge while I…_ Her face darkened. She had been in charge too, of the worst of the Legion. _I’m no longer this person._ Then why was she worried about her stiletto? And about Maria?

 

 


	2. II

  **Heaven from Hell**

* * *

**II**

Graham had not lied; the so-called Daniel appeared in her tent a few minutes later. He was kind of a young man, compared to Joshua Graham. A thick beard, a hat on his head, he looked like the plain Wastelander of the Mojave – except that it wasn’t the Mojave. He tilted his head when he realized she was looking at him. _A polite man. Way more the kind of man I would expect from a Mormon._ She didn’t say anything, staring at him, waiting for him to say whatever he was there to say.  
   
“My name is Daniel,” he greeted her. “Joshua asked me to come and see if you were all right. The Dead Horses told me details about the attack on your caravan. A stranger’s sympathy might not count for much, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.

\- Don’t be. I didn’t know them.  
\- Don’t say that to the Sorrows, then. They will mourn them, as they mourn everyone. They still have sensitive souls. Innocent, if there is such a thing after what happened to most of the White Legs.  
\- Well apparently what happened was not enough since they attacked me.”  
   
He frowned. _He really is a man of God, then._ He wasn’t like Graham. Graham would’ve agreed with her, or outright ignored her because he knew she was right. He, on the other hand, seemed to genuinely care about this tribe, the Sorrows. _Innocent,_ she repeated. _Weak._ There wasn’t such a thing in the Wastelands, even those Wastelands. The only _innocent_ people she’d met were either children or dead people. Crushed by the Legion or any other forces.  
She shrugged and stood up in front of him. He wasn’t as tall as Graham was. Probably wasn’t as lethal as well. Saner than him. _Not hard._ She wasn’t even sure the two men really appreciated each other – they were two survivors of the same town, no more, no less. She even wondered if he knew _who_ Graham really was.  
   
“It is a matter of months for them to be so scattered around Utah that they would not represent a threat anymore,” Daniel finally retorted. “I’m sincerely sorry you had to meet them.  
\- Not as much as I am. Graham told me you would bring me my weapons.  
\- I have them, yes. But…”  
   
That time, she frowned. _But what ? Don’t tempt me, I’m this close to shooting you._ He was holding a fabric bag in his left hand and looked at her with suspicious eyes. _Oh._ She understood. He was so caring of his goddamn savages that he was scared she might blow a fuse and kill them all. Not that she hadn’t considered the idea, but it would be useless and way too dangerous. She needed them to escape this canyon anyway.  
   
“But you’re scared of me,” she sighed. “What did Graham say to you? That I was dangerous? Unpredictable?  
\- He didn’t say anything about you. But you are heavily armed. Any of these could…” He stopped. “I just want to be sure I’m not making a mistake trusting you.  
\- I won’t say I’m as caring and kind as you are, Daniel, but I’m not planning a mass-murder any soon. I just want to be sure my weapons are up and running.  
\- They are. There, this is all we found on you.”  
   
He handed her the bag. She took it and emptied it on the bed. Her machete was there, as well as her sniper rifle and her shotgun. Maria was still in its holster with her switchblade. She found her stiletto as the bottom of the bad. She couldn’t help smiling at its sight. Everything was there. And as Graham said, not damaged. She nodded and raised her eyes to meet Daniel’s. He still looked unsure of what he was doing.  
   
“Thank you.  
\- You’re welcome,” he said, a bit more relaxed. “Joshua told me you wanted to go east. Our scouts will be back in two or three days, I’ll ask them to lead you out of Zion but I’m afraid they won’t be able to help you go any further. They’ve never been out of the canyon.  
\- It’s okay. I don’t wish for company anyway, I just want to get out of here.  
\- I guess.”  
   
He lowered his eyes and shook his head before heading out of her tent. _What the..?_ She blinked and put her weapons back in the bag, except her stiletto she hid on her ankle. She lay down on her bed and tried to give sense to whatever just happened. The Daniel guy was weird – to be honest it was the first _real_ Mormon she’d ever met and now she understood better why New-Canaan had been destroyed this easily by those White Legs.  
When she closed her eyes, she remembered what had led to such a complete and utter disaster. She was still young during the First Battle of Hoover Dam and she didn’t participate in the massacre, but now she remembered how furious Caesar was when he realized Malpais Legate had driven his forces into a trap… And lost the dam. It took him days before giving the order to coat him in pitch, light him on fire and throw him in the Grand Canyon. And of course, she’d been there to watch the execution. But she couldn’t… She couldn’t remember Graham’s face, though she’d seen him frequently during her childhood. It was blurry. She only saw his screaming face covered with pitch, the way he was staring at Caesar. The fire in his eyes, even brighter than the fire around him. And his screams, his never-ending screams that haunted the Canyon for so long.  
   
But his body was never found and rumours had started to spread. And Caesar couldn’t allow that. When he heard that the New-Canaanites had sheltered him, he ordered the White Legs to destroy them, to burn them to the ground and salt their lands. But then again, his body was never found and Caesar decided that Joshua Graham had simply _never existed._ Even when Vulpes and her tried to find him, they were doing it secretly. The Frumentarii that had died in the attempt of finding him… They were forgotten. Never existed either. And then Lanius had been appointed as the new Legate and things had gone back the way they were before. Except that no one could forget the screams of the Burned Man, down the Canyon.  
   
She didn’t realize she had fallen half-asleep while remembering these days and when she woke up, the lingering silence of the caves had been replaced by voices, laughter and agitation. She rubbed her eyes, yawned and stepped out her tent. People were sitting around a campfire, eating and talking in what sounded like a mix of the common tongue and their weird language. She stopped there, staring at the group of tribals. Some of them spotted her, pointed their fingers at her, even gestured her to come. She shook her head and gulped. She had no idea what she was supposed to do, until Graham stood up and walked toward her. She tensed immediately, _fucking Legion reflexes._  
   
“Why don’t you join us? We’re eating and I reckon you haven’t eaten in days.  
\- I’m not sure it is a good idea.  
\- Quite the contrary, I’m sure it is. Come.”  
   
He motioned her to follow him and, for some reason, she did. He sat on a tree trunk. She sat next to him and weakly smiled to all the people around her. They weren’t exactly scary or anything. She just felt so out of place that she didn’t know what to do, what to say. She accepted the meat they offered her and ate in silence. Graham wasn’t wrong; she was hungry. She almost devoured what she’d been given and tried to understand what was going on around.  
Graham was silent too, looking with an uncanny calm at the tribe. She stared at him for a few seconds. She wondered what was going on in his head. Were those people a way to repay what he’d done with the Legion? Were they supposed to be band-aids to his conscience? She wasn’t sure it was be so easy to repent from the crimes he had committed while he was a Legate, but he surely looked serene. _It’s only appearances. I still see the fire in his eyes._ It was a bit softened, a bit tamed, but it was still there.  
   
“Hello,” a man greeted her. She almost had a start and turned her head toward him. He had brown skin, dark blue eyes and tattoos all over his face. _It’s like a trend, I guess?_ “I’m Follow-Chalk. And you are the woman we have found, yes?  
\- Yes… Yes, it’s me. You speak the common language?  
\- White Legs don’t leave survivors often, you’re some kind of lucky I can tell you!” He smiled. _He sounds so… Kind._ “And yes, I do. I learnt it with Joshua.”  
   
He suddenly looked respectful and lowered his eyes when said Joshua looked at him. She shivered. She’d seen this kind of looks all her life; it was the exact same look every members of the Legion, or at least the most submissive, had when they saw Caesar. _And still Graham is not a new Caesar,_ she thought.  
But he went back at her and the joyful shine in his eyes came back. She couldn’t help but smile too – he was young, so young. _He’s not younger than me._ But still he looked so… What had Daniel called his Sorrows again? _Innocent._ Maybe innocence still existed in this world, then.  
   
“What is your name?  
\- I… I have no name.  
\- What do you mean?” He seemed confused. “Didn’t your parent give you one? Or your tribe?  
\- I don’t come from a tribe and… I don’t remember the name my parents gave me.  
\- It is very sad,” he said, a bit gloomily. “It’s true you don’t look like any other woman I’ve seen before. You look a bit like Joshua, before he came back with… You know.”  
   
His tone had lowered, as if he didn’t want him to hear. He probably did but didn’t say anything. She nodded. _If only you knew._ Follow-Chalk was going to say something when one of his fellow tribal called him. He apologized and left her for a couple of minutes. Enough for her to realize that she was the actual focal point of the whole tribe. Graham was speaking in their weird tongue with another group, he wasn’t really acknowledging her. The others, on the other hand…  
It felt weird, really. Most of the time, people were scared of her cold looks, her cold gaze and her harsh behaviour. They seemed curious, still suspicious, but mainly curious… _Probably because Graham himself took me here._ Even in the Legion, people never dared look at her this frankly. She was Caesar’s daughter and even so, she was the head of the Frumentarii. Even when she was only Courier Six, Boone never looked at her like that. _He never really looked at me anyway._  
   
“I’m sorry, they were wondering if you were feeling right,” the boy told her when he returned. “You look really pale.  
\- I always look pale. But… Thank you. For caring.  
\- They said your skin looks ashy.” He stopped and, all of a sudden, his face illuminated. “This could be your name! Ash-Skin!  
\- I… I don’t…  
\- This is an excellent idea,” Graham said. “Ash-Skin. That suits you.”  
   
 _Said the Burned Man._ She shook her head, trying to get him to help her but he didn’t say anything else. Follow-Chalk turned to his fellows and apparently announced them how the new comer was called. _Ash-Skin. Is that a fucking joke?_ She’d burned so much places to the ground, burned so many people on crosses, so many corpses. She couldn’t be called _Ash._ It didn’t… It made too much sense.  
But they all seemed so happy with her new name that she didn’t say anything. She faked a smile and waited for them to go to their tents to sleep. It didn’t take as long as she feared – a good ten minutes. She was staring at the dying fire in front of her when silence gradually came back in the caves. Graham was gone, she was alone with those little flames. _Ash-Skin._ She’d borne so many names, it was just one more. It didn’t matter if they wanted to call her like that. In a week she would be far gone, they would forget her. She would forget them. Soon enough.  
   
“Not so comfortable anymore, are we?” Graham said while sitting in front of her, at the other side of the fire. “They didn’t mean harm.  
\- I know. I don’t care what they call me.  
\- I’m not sure you do. Given your personal history…  
\- You don’t know shit about my personal history. Do not lecture me.”  
   
She looked daggers at him. He didn’t react – not visibly, anyway. He poked the fire and kept quiet for a moment. Even his hands were bandaged. How much damage had the flames done to him, back in the Canyon? She couldn’t even imagine it. _It must hurt still._ It couldn’t be any other way. When she realized he saw her staring, she turned her eyes away and ran a hand across her face. She was still tired. Not physically, mentally. But she wasn’t sure she could be mentally rested.  
   
“You’re so different from the girl I remember,” he continued, still poking the fire. “You look the same, you speak the same but you’re changed.  
\- Why of course I’m changed, it’s been five fucking years since they tossed you into the Grand Canyon. I was fifteen, back then.  
\- But you were already so much like Caesar.” He shook his head. “And somehow you still are, but it was… Overwhelming, back then. You spoke like him. Men bowed before you the way they bowed before him.  
\- Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I was his daughter?  
\- You still are.”  
   
 _Technically, yes._ But Caesar was dead and Iulia had gone missing. She’d told no one. She’d lit her tent in fire, hoping that the whole Fort would burn and she’d left. She’d taken the first caravan due to leave and never looked behind. _Ash-Skin._ They not wrong, her skin was made of ashes. The Legion’s ashes, Vulpes, Boone, her mother’s ashes. Her father’s. _My father._ It sounded so… Inappropriate. She’d never called him father. He was Caesar, for her and everyone. And he should always remain Caesar, whatever his original name was.  
   
“And what is changed, in me, then?” She asked cockily, waited for some sappy answer. “My eyes? They’re dim? Dead, maybe?  
\- It’s not your eyes or any of your features. Why did you leave the Mojave, exactly?  
\- I needed some fresh air.  
\- I got that quite clearly,” he retorted. “But why? Why couldn’t you lead the Legion anymore?  
\- Because I am not Iulia anymore. I have become something else and this something else couldn’t lead the Legion.”  
   
She was tired of lying. She was going to stay three days, she could as well make some efforts. He was the only person there who could possibly get a grasp of who she was, what she was doing and, mainly, what she was seeking. Even if even she didn’t know what she was exactly seeking.  
And she was tired of being alone. She’d been alone since Vulpes’ death and it happened like three months ago. She’d never been alone before: the Legion, Vulpes, Boone, Vulpes again. Even if none of them had ever really fully understood her, they were there. And it ached to be alone with herself, to have no one to talk to. _I’m supposed to be selfish, maniac, cruel and here I am, desperate over some company._ And he didn’t say anything. Didn’t laugh. And she couldn’t see his face, couldn’t know if he was smiling with mockery or if he didn’t give a damn.  
   
“This is seriously complicated to know what you’re thinking with your… Bandages, y’know,” she sighed. “Not that I care, obviously.  
\- Of course. I’m just surprised that someone like you could feel this… Unfit.  
 _\- Of course_ ,” she groaned. “How could someone who has opened women in half to take their baby can feel like she can’t lead a bunch of bloodthirsty slavers?  
\- I remember that.” He shrugged when he saw she was frowning. “The day Caesar asked you to open this woman. You were but twelve.”  
   
She shivered at the memory. Of course he remembered. It was the worst day of her life, alongside the bullet thing and Boone’s death. Caesar had summoned her. She was training but she was authorized to leave the ranks. He was waiting for her in the slavers’ shacks. A pregnant woman was screaming on a bed. _“I’M NOT GIVING YOU MY BABY! HE WILL DIE WITH ME!”_ was all she was saying. She remembered it was painful, those howls. Caesar had looked at her straight in the eyes and had asked her what the female slaves’ task was. Obediently she had answered that they had to provide the Legion with vigorous and pure males. This one, he told her, doesn’t want to fulfil her task. So he asked what had to be done when a slave refused to accomplish her one and only mission. She answered that she had to be forced to.  
And Malpais Legate was also there, behind Caesar, his face half hidden in the dark. His eyes were glowing – his blue eyes. She was handed a knife. And asked to force the woman into delivering the baby. _I must open her,_ she’d thought. _So that we can take the baby out of her before it is dead._ Childish reasoning. But it was what she was asked to do. So she did it. The howls went even uglier, even more painful, but then it went duller and duller as the baby’s screams went more powerful. Caesar nodded, satisfied, and congratulated her. She had smiled, covered with blood. She’d done what she was asked to, as a perfect little soldier. 


	3. III

**Heaven from Hell**

* * *

**III**

“You didn’t hesitate,” he said. “You took this knife and you opened her. I almost feared you would cut the baby as well… But you managed not to.

\- What can I say? I’m a born-butcher.  
\- But I also remember what happened after that. This night, when you went back to your tent before the other trainees.” His voice almost lulled her into her memories. _How can he know?_ “How much you cried, while cleansing your hands so many times that it bruised them.  
\- How can you know that?  
\- I was a Legate. I knew everything that happened in the Fort before Caesar… And I got to choose what I told him and what I didn’t.”  
   
She blinked and stared at the ground, blankly. It shouldn’t have surprised her. _I’m not surprised._ Just tired as hell of these memories. Every time she remembered something new, it was even worse than the previous memory. Every time she thought she could remember she wasn’t such a monster, everything proved her otherwise. The only _happy_ memories she had left were those of her wandering in the Mojave. The few times she’d helped people for almost nothing because Boone has asked her to. The Kings. The Followers of the Apocalypse. But then her life had sunken back into hell. _Into the Legion’s hell._ There was nothing good in her existence, nothing to keep. _Then why am I still there? I should have burnt with the Fort. Or I should have died when the White Legs attacked the caravan._  
When she raised her eyes to meet his, she realized that she would probably have died too if Caesar had ever heard about this episode, in the trainees’ tent. It would’ve been an excuse to get rid a troublesome daughter – she was just getting better from the whippings at that time and another series of lashings would probably have finished her.  
   
“Why didn’t you tell him, then?  
\- He would’ve been greatly displeased,” he shrugged. “Plus, I knew it was a one-time thing. That, given the opportunity, you would do it again without flinching.  
\- And I did.  
\- And you did, indeed.” He paused for a long time. “So I don’t understand what could have happened to you that turned you against the Legion. They didn’t do to you what they did to me.  
\- I wasn’t against them. I… I don’t care about slavery, rapes, and child murders. I just couldn’t do it myself and I could not… Witness it.  
\- I don’t believe that a bullet, even in your brain, could’ve turned you into a merciful soul.”  
   
 _And you’re right, buddy._ She sighed. She didn’t want to talk about it, but somehow, she had to. Perhaps he could understand? _No way he can._ He just said it: what happened to him, the whole punishment thing, it wasn’t anything like what happened to her. She wasn’t shot because she was Legion: she was shot because she was carrying something that any other courier could’ve been carrying all the same. And when she came back, she was the prodigal son – or daughter. She was offered everything she’d left. Everything could have returned to what it was before. But it had not. And he couldn’t understand that. No one could.  
   
“I didn’t just take this bullet,” she almost whispered. “I lost everything I was with the bullet. It took my memories, my identity for so long. I lived all these months without knowing who I was, who I had been before, what I was doing. I just knew that I had to retaliate.” She closed her eyes. It was painful. Physically painful. “But then Vulpes found me and memories started to rush back. But they didn’t erase who I’d been for a year. Hell, I even killed some of those Legion soldiers when they were kidnapping slaves-to-be! When I tried to become Iulia once again, I just couldn’t. I wasn’t her anymore. So I… I killed the Courier.  
\- You killed the Courier?” He blinked and finally sighed. “Who did you kill?  
\- The sniper who had been traveling with me for the whole year. I didn’t have the choice, it was either me or Vulpes and… At least it was painless.”  
   
 _Not for everyone._ She gritted her teeth. That was also something she would never forget. The look in Boone’s eyes when he understood that she was going to kill him. It wasn’t heart breaking, it wasn’t sad or furious. It was… _Devastating._ There was so much disappointment in those green eyes of his. He didn’t say anything. He collapsed in silence. And died in silence, as he had lived. He went to his wife, the wife the Legion had taken from him. _I promised him we would destroy the Legion at some point._ She hadn’t lied. But she’d betrayed him. She gulped.  
   
“It did kill her. But it didn’t bring back Iulia. So… So I killed her too. Her and Vulpes. It killed her but it didn’t kill me. So I destroyed her Legion and I fled. But that didn’t kill me either and here I am. With a new name and new things to destroy,” she spat out. “You’re happy now? You know everything about my god-forsaken soul. I was the best and the worst of them and now I’m nothing.  
\- No, you’re not. Four times you were baptised, four times you were reborn.  
\- I told you not to shove your religious stuff down my throat.  
\- It is not religious,” he retorted, looking at the fire. “I’ve been baptised two times. In water and in fire. You were baptised in your mother’s blood, in the bullet’s powder, in the blade who cut your heart. Vulpes’?” She nodded. “And you were baptised by the White Legs in sand. Iulia, the Courier, no one, Ash-Skin.”  
   
She smiled bitterly. It didn’t make any sense. All these persons were bad, all these persons shouldn’t have been given the right to live again and again and again, to destroy again and again and again. And rise again, every time weaker and more broken. But he was so deadly serious and his eyes were so bright and his voice was so low. She bit her lips and turned her eyes away. She felt tears in her eyes, threatening to rush down her face like the weak girl she was.  
He spoke truth and this truth hurt her. And she didn’t want to hear it because it meant that she was stuck in a downward spiral that had no end, except, maybe one day, her death, once and for all. How many lives would be destroyed by then?  
   
“What are you trying to tell me?” she groaned. “That your fucking God is giving me the opportunity to redeem? The same he gave to you?  
\- Maybe I am.  
 _\- Maybe I am._ Well guess what? If your God does exist, there is no such thing as Heaven for us.” She jumped on her feet, above the fire, her face deformed by pain, anger and despair. “He will _never_ forgive us for what we did. Maybe I am a monster, actually yes, I am. Maybe I have hundreds of people’s blood on my hand. But so do you. You led the Legion. You helped Caesar. You created it, you gave birth to You created me! You’re as responsible as I am for the blood we’re covered with!  
\- I never said I wasn’t.” His voice was now feral. He was furious. “Don’t blame me for your own crimes.  
\- Then stop believing that living as an hermit in deepest Utah is going to be enough for you to make amend!”  
  
She was screaming, staring at the shining blue eyes in front of her. The flames were there, no longer tamed, no longer dim. It was devouring, threatening, even more than the actual fire that separated them. He stood up too to face her. In the smoke of the campfire, she couldn’t see anything but those two eyes glaring at her with rage. _This is who he really is,_ she thought. _Malpais Legate, forever and ever._  
For a second, what she saw in his eyes scared her and she regretted her screams. But she remembered who he pretended to be now – he couldn’t kill her in cold blood. Even if she was arrogant, unbearable. Even if she reminded him of someone he used to be. Or thought he used to be. _He’s still a monster._ And he’ll always be.  
   
“You’re here because I told them to treat you,” he growled. “Don’t overstep the mark.  
\- Or what? You’re going to kill me and show them that your beautiful speeches don’t mean anything? You can pretend you’re no longer the monster you’ve been, but I know better. You’re dying to finish the work, and put another bullet in my brain, _I see it!_  
\- Don’t tempt me. Don’t.” He closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them back, they were cold as ice. “You should get some rest, ”  
   
She froze and shivered. _You…_ She clenched her fists and remembered her stiletto was hidden at her ankle. _I could kill you here and now._ Yes, she could. But then again, she had no idea how to leave this place. The tribals would kill her in an instant. The idea wasn’t so bad, but she didn’t want to die _like this_. Because of him.  
So she just walked to her tent and paced back and forth inside, trying to simmer down. _Iulia’s dead,_ she repeated. _She’s dead._ She closed her eyes and slipped her fingers in her hair, pulling them as if she was trying to get rid of them. It hurt, it hurt so much that she needed to feel this pain physically. She fell on her knees on the ground, in the dirt and buried her face in her hands. And she cried, cried, cried, because she didn’t know what else to do.  
   
Because he was speaking the truth and this truth was so painful, so _true._ And it was awful to see that he knew how to deal with his past while she had no idea how to do it. And it was even worse to see that he hadn’t changed – and that he still believed he had. She crawled to her bed and collapsed on it, still sobbing. She didn’t care that someone could hear her. She wasn’t going to stay – she needed to go. She had to. She wouldn’t survive it. She couldn’t.  
And she fell asleep again, in a deep, dark, sick sleep. It was the first time she slept in days, maybe weeks. It was a dreamless sleep. It was a somehow restful sleep and it soothed her. She slept through the night and through most of the day. She would probably have slept through the rest of said day if someone hadn’t interrupted her. She violently woke up and searched for Maria. She aimed at the intruder who opened his eyes wide and raised his hands. She blinked and when she recognized him, she sighed and lowered her gun. It was Follow-Chalk. She ran a hand across her face and her fingers in her hair.  
   
“What do you want?” she said with a raspy voice. “Why did you wake me?  
\- It worried us that you are still in your tent. We thought maybe you were sick.  
\- I’m not. Satisfied?  
\- I’m not worried anymore.”  
   
She sighed again. He didn’t mean harm, she knew it, but still she couldn’t help being bitter. Asleep, she couldn’t think about anything but… Well, her sleep. No Joshua Graham, no Legion, no heavy past and no fear of future. Now that she was awake, she would never fall asleep for days. And she would have to wait for their scouts to come back. _Fucking tribals and their overindulgence,_ she thought. _Innocence my ass, they’re just stupid as fuck._  
Chalk shuffled around awkwardly, as if he didn’t dare tell her what he was exactly supposed to tell her. _Now I’m awaken, you may as well piss me off a little bit more._ She frowned.  
   
“And so?  
\- Daniel wanted me to tell you that…” He gulped. “Our scouts have come back. They’re injured so they need a day or two of rest but then they’ll lead out of Zion.  
Good news at last.” She faked a smile. It was enough for him to relax. “Thank you.”  
   
He nodded but didn’t go out. _What now?_ Was he going to tell her that Graham had cried all night thinking of her? That he wanted to show her around? That he wanted her to have another name? _What the fuck does he want, for Heaven’s sake?!_  
   
“Are you going to tell me why the hell you’re here or do I need to beg you?  
\- I’ve… I’ve heard your argument with Joshua, yesterday,” he stammered. “Is everything okay?  
\- Everything’s okay.” She frowned again. “Have you told anyone?  
\- No, I thought it wasn’t… Good.  
\- You were right. It’s useless to tell anyone, it’s between Graham and me.”  
   
He didn’t look convinced, torn between his respect verging on worship for Graham and his apparent natural benevolence toward strangers. And it tore her heart to see that a boy she knew nothing about was willing to listen to her, instead of just throwing her out of his Eden. _I would’ve killed me in my sleep, if I were him._ To protect her lands, her people. But she didn’t have any people and he didn’t want to believe she was a danger. _I so am. You should be worried._ But he wasn’t. He was just afraid that she might break a fuse and throw him out of her tent. _Your tent, boy._  
So she relaxed and gestured him to sit next to her. He did with a visible enthusiasm – he wanted to talk to her a bit more, apparently, and it made her smile. No one wanted to talk to her. When she talked, people listened but… That was all. They didn’t particularly _want_ to speak with her, to exchange points of view. To _befriend_ her. It was… odd. But it wasn’t unpleasant.  
   
“Do you know each other? Joshua and you? You seem to understand each other.  
\- We… Used to. Years ago, I knew him before he got all his bandages,” she said, sitting cross-legged. “I grew up in the same…  
\- Tribe? When we first met him, he said he came from a huge tribe called The Leejion He didn’t have the bandages at that time and he said he was the servant of a man called Caesar.” She shivered when she heard him calling him the Latin way. “He led his master’s armies and we were ready to follow him into war. But then he lost those armies to another tribe, the Enseeyar, the Sunset People.  
\- The Legion approached you?  
\- But when he came back, he was as you saw him. Burned, broken but changed.”  
   
She didn’t remember Caesar talking about the Dead Horses or the Sorrows – but at that time, she didn’t really care about tribes and tribals. She wanted to be the very best at all trainings, to be noteworthy. So some obscure tribes in Utah? She didn’t give a single thought about it. It was Caesar and Malpais Legate’s business and she had to stay away from their business.  
Chalk apparently didn’t know anything about this “Leejion” and this “Enseeyar” tribes, except that they had been important to Joshua… In their own ways. Much like they’ve been important to her, in slightly different ways.  
   
“What did he do for you?  
\- He led us away from Caesar, led us to our own destiny in Zion,” he answered, reverent. “If it wasn’t for him, the Dead Horses would still be the whipping boys of the valley. He showed us how to hold our territory, how to protect ourselves. He guided us away from the Leejion and showed us how it would’ve destroyed us.  
\- The Legion destroys whatever it touches. It’s fortunate… He helped you get away from its claws.  
\- I thought you didn’t come from a tribe. Do you come from the Leejion too?”  
   
 _Tricky one._ Technically, yes, she did. But she wasn’t sure it was the best idea to tell him. Maybe he didn’t know much about the Legion, but she was quite sure Daniel did – and if Graham was cautious, he surely didn’t tell him what he did and who he’s been in the Mojave. It was well-known throughout the West, Caesar had made sure no one (or at least, no civilized people) would ever ignore its existence. And it was infamous enough for him to want her away from his beloved innocent Sorrows.  
But lying wasn’t exactly a good idea either. Sooner or later, someone would understand and she just told him she had known him when he wasn’t covered with bandages so… _I wish I could just get away with it._ But it wasn’t any easier to escape her past with him than with herself. Everything was leading her back to who she’d been. _Who I still am, though some may not like the idea._  
   
“I do. But… I understood they weren’t good people so I fled. Just like Graham.  
\- You did the right thing, then,” he smiled. “He’s happier than he was when we first met him, I’m sure of that. Even if we can’t really know, with all his dressings.  
\- Is he? He doesn’t seem this happy to me.  
\- It’s because he’s a bit… Withdrawn. But sometimes he comes with us when we hunt and he seems really glad to be there.”  
   
 _He’s deluding himself._ A man like Joshua Graham couldn’t satisfy himself with _hunts_. Even a changed, burned, broken man couldn’t – she couldn’t. _Or maybe I could?_ She had no idea. She never had a peaceful life, except those few years with her mother but it was so remote. Maybe she kept some memories of her back before the bullet – but she couldn’t even remember her face. Nothing. Sometimes she even forgot she ever existed.  
Before she met Vulpes again, she’d talked about it with Boone. He had told her about the life he had with Carla, his wife. It wasn’t perfect, really it wasn’t. But it was. And it was enough for him – and even if she didn’t like Novac, they were about to have a baby, a _peaceful_ life. It didn’t have to be perfect. It just had to be. She’d smiled at the idea and wondered what it would be, a have a _peaceful_ life with a man like him. Things had taken such a dramatic turn that she never asked herself the question again… Until now. She wished she could just have it. But it seemed impossible to achieve.  
   
“You look like him, when he returned.” He was staring at her but she hadn’t realized. “You look… Haunted. And tired. As if you’ve been living for too long… But you’re young, aren’t you?  
\- I don’t really know if I can still be called young.  
\- Maybe you could find here the peace he found. Why do you want to go so much?  
\- Because I…”  
   
She didn’t find an answer, because she didn’t have any for him. It was easy to tell Graham that she wanted to flee the Legion, but to a tribal? What could she say? She’d already fled it. The Legion was not in Utah, why would she try her luck in deserted lands when she could just stay here and try to mend her soul? _It’s not far enough. They could come whenever they want._ And they could storm Zion and destroy everything. It wouldn’t be the first time.  
So she shook her head and sighed. She thought those tribals were stupid – they were actually very smart. Not the kind of smartness she knew about, but a very natural smartness – something she didn’t have. Chalk knew how to read people, even when they were faking, because he didn’t know that people could lie to him. _It is… Depressing._  
   
“Because I need to. It’s hard to explain.  
\- It’s sad. I really like you,” he sighed, shrugging. _You have no idea who you’re talking to. I killed so many men like you._ He suddenly blushed, even if it wasn’t easy to see with his brown skin. “And… No, it’s stupid.  
\- What?” She smiled, amused. “What is it, Follow-Chalk?  
\- You won’t like it.  
\- How do you know? Just tell me. I’m not going to kill you.  
\- Well, you’re really pretty when you smile, even if you’re really pale. You should smile more.”  
   
She blinked, bemused. _What? Pretty?_ He blushed even more and looked away. It was the first times’ day, apparently. No one had ever called her _pretty._ Vulpes had told her she was beautiful, but he only said it when she was naked, covered with bruises and marks under him. It was just a way to flatter himself, indirectly. He had always believed she was his – and it wasn’t right. Boone never told her, even if his eyes spoke for him, sometimes.  
But pretty? Never. No one dared. So she chuckled and shook her head, almost blushing too. She felt like a ten year-old hearing her fist compliment – she wasn’t ten year-old, but it was her first true compliment anyway. He seemed relieved and laughed with her. Then he stood up and gestured the entrance of the tent.  
   
“I’m sorry, I need to go hunting. You’re not going to go to sleep again, are you?  
\- Oh, no. I… Will probably go and see Graham, to tell him about my future departure,” she replied. “Have a good hunt, then.  
\- Thank you, Ash-Skin.”  
   
 _Ash-Skin._ It didn’t sound perfect but then away, it sounded quite good. And maybe it was enough. _Ash-Skin._

 


	4. IV

**Heaven from Hell**

* * *

**IV**

And so she did go to see Graham, though she had no idea where he was. She wandered for a few minutes in the caves, looking for his tent, unable to find it. _Does he live outside?_ She finally managed to find someone who gestured her to go in some kind of a secondary cave, adjacent to the main one. She thanked the woman. She warned her of… Something she didn’t understand, so she just nodded and went straight into the second cave.  
It was bit more dark inside, there were only a few lanterns and they weren’t very bright. She looked around, trying to see if he was there. And he was, sitting on a chair, turning his back on the entrance – and her, incidentally. She didn’t say anything for a moment. He was taking off his bandages, she could see it in the shadows. Those from his hands. She didn’t dare say anything, not after what happened the day before. But then he stopped his moves and turned his head. _Spotted._  
   
“Now that you’re here, you may as well come and tell me why you entered my quarters.

\- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb,” she apologized while walking toward him. She walked past him and faced him. She was pulling his bandages away. “Am I interrupting something?  
\- Nothing that can’t wait. Take a sit.”  
   
He gestured her to sit in front of him, on the chair nearby. She did and cleared her throat. He looked at her with calm eyes and crossed his arms on his chest. _Why is he taking them off?_ Did he _really_ replaced them every day? _Well it would be incredibly filthy if he did not._ She wondered how he _really_ looked like. She didn’t remember his face before the punishment – she just remembered the screams. The tar on his skin.  
She moved about, ill at ease. She didn’t know what to say. She still resented him for what he said before, and for what he tried to make her believe. _I don’t want to believe it’s that easy._ It would be too hard to realize that it wasn’t. She had been disappointed so many times. She wouldn’t survive another disillusion.  
   
“So what is it you want? Surely not my mere presence.  
\- Follow-Chalk told me the scouts were back. They need a day or two of rest and then they’ll be ready to lead me out of the valley,” she said. “I thought you’d like to know.  
\- Yes, he told me too. He’s quite fond of you, I must say.  
\- I saw that, yes.” She smiled. “He’s a good boy.  
\- He is, indeed.”  
   
His eyes narrowed. _What is he thinking?_ Good riddance? He wasn’t going to miss her, for sure. So what? Why was he so silent, suddenly? He shook his head and sighed.  
   
“I thought he would convince you to stay, to be honest.  
\- Really?” She raised her eyebrows. “Even his kindness can’t do that.  
\- I guess. We’ll supply you everything necessary to survive in the East, then.  
\- Thank you.”  
   
She wanted to apologize, to tell him she was sorry for earlier – but why the fuck did she want it? It wasn’t like he was anything for her. He wasn’t anything but a Legion renegade, much like her, but two renegades never make a good team. So she just nodded and looked around.  
It was his bedroom, but not only. An incredible amount of weapons were stocked here and there, waiting for someone to use them. She guessed that an equivalent amount of ammos were stored in the boxes piled against the walls. _Pile body upon body,_ she remembered. She gritted her teeth. Boxes upon boxes. Less murderous. Just as threatening.  
   
When she came back to him, he was looking at her. She couldn’t really tell what his eyes were saying, except that they were lost in her contemplation. He didn’t really look at her, he looked _through_ her. He was thinking about something. _I’d kill to know about what._ She’d killed for less than that anyway.  
She motioned his hands, trying to change the subject. He blinked and looked at them too. The bandages were falling off of the one he was taking care of when she entered, revealing tiny bits of raw skin. _Is his whole body like this?_  
   
“You were taking your bandages off,” she said. It wasn’t a question. “Are you… Still in pain?  
\- It never stops burning. Every day, I have to unwind the bandages and replace them with fresh ones.” He sighed and shrugged, tiredly. “Exposing my skin to the air is like living through it again, but it’s better to be clean than comfortable.  
\- How did you survive? I remember your… Screams. And I remembered it only ended long after you were tossed in the Canyon.  
\- I survived because the fire inside burned brighter than the fire around me. You don’t really know the depths of Caesar’s fire, but I do only too well.”  
   
She nodded. She never really knew the man who called himself leader of the Legion – she only knew this figure, this Caesar, and she didn’t even know much about him. Even before he realized she was a girl, he had never been a father, not even a fatherly figure or anything. He was a tyrant, nothing more, nothing less. Giving orders, expecting everyone to respect them. Unforgiving.  
And he had this flame in his eyes – not quite the same as Graham’s. It was a cold, blue flame and it wasn’t burning with rage or vengeance. It wasn’t wildfire, it was the devil inside of him’s radiance. During the very few first seconds of Malpais Legate’s torture, as the fire was growing around him, Caesar’s eyes wereglowing furiously. The devil was unleashed, never to be hindered again. He turned against everyone, reduced tribes to ashes, destroyed former legionaries. But Graham was right. She never really got a real grasp of this fire inside of him.  
   
“And you…” She was whispering, now. She didn’t know anything about Caesar’s devil, but she knew about Graham’s. She had the same – the one that murmured every day that they shouldn’t be alive. “You never thought about…  
\- Dying? Putting an end to this torment?” He lowered his eyes. _He’s smiling,_ she realized. The outer corners of his eyes were slightly wrinkled. “Some days are harder than other. I think about it daily, each time I have to strip out my bandages.  
\- How are you still alive, then?  
\- For the same reason as you, I guess. You may consider yourself an alien, but you and I are seeking the same thing.”  
   
 _Then tell me what I’m seeking,_ her mind begged against her will. _Tell me if you know. I want to know what it takes to feel like before._ To feel good. To look at the face of the world and laugh. To be able to move forward, to leave this place and be good again. She couldn’t be a monster anymore; she would never be a good person anymore. She needed something. _What do I need?_  
Her eyes were probably as pleading as her thoughts because he held out his hand in her direction. She didn’t understand, at first. Then he took hers. She froze. It was the hand that was starting to show under the bandages. She resisted the urge she felt to take them off and look at his real skin. The silence lingered as she was trying to get her mind to think about something else than this never-ending pain of never be complete again.  
   
“The things I did…” She was speaking without realizing. “It’s so much easier to make someone else responsible for them. To make Caesar responsible for what I did for him. All these things… These wildfires in my head, they will never stop burning and they will never stop devouring me alive. I want the life I had before my eyes opened. - I want something to close them again and soothe the burns.  
\- The bullet in your brain, Vulpes’ attack, the White Legs. The wildfires that burned me,” he said, his eyes now as dark as the room around them. “They are neither God or Caesar’s works. The things we’ve done are ours, and they’ll always be part of us. As well as the dreams’ we’ve had of a peaceful life in which everything we’ve done would not exist.  
\- What’s the point of surviving, then, if nothing will ever be able to mend our souls?”  
   
No answer. Just those two eyes, darkly glimmering. It seemed to her that she was almost able to see this dark soul of his in those eyes. Broken. Burned. So willing to change, to amend. It was her soul’s reflection. All those speeches, those biblical speeches, those appearances of quietude were lies he was telling himself to go on and accept the terrible certainty that the pain would never end. At least she didn’t have the physical one – only the psychological.  
She almost jumped when she felt him trying to take back his hand. When she lowered her eyes on their hands, she realized she was holding it tight. Maybe a bit too tight for his damaged skin. She slowly released it and caressed the thin fabric of the dressing.  
   
“I’m sorry.  
\- Don’t be,” he sighed. “We get used to everything, including pain.  
\- Not only for that.” She wasn’t going to accept that she’d been unfair the day before. But at the way he nodded, he understood what she was talking about. “Do you want me to go?  
\- You don’t have to.  
\- Can I help you with this, then?”  
  
She showed his hand. He blinked. His self-assurance faltered. _Does he fear I would hurt him?_ She gritted her teeth. She had no idea what’s got into her – she wasn’t even sure she wanted to see what he really looked like. Maybe he had a ghoulish aspect. Maybe he had no face anymore. Maybe the bones could be seen.  
But he nodded again and gave her back his hand. She didn’t dare to touch it at first, even more surprised than me by the turn of events. _To think that two years from now I would’ve chopped his head off for Caesar to see it, back in the Fort._ A bullet in the head really changed a woman.  
   
“Be gentle, please,” he only said. So she tried her best to be, slowly taking the gauzes. It’s been more than five years since the doomed day he fell into Grand Canyon, and the skin was more or less healed, but the marks were still there… And would away be. Next to her milky-white skin – _my ashy skin,_ his red, dark flesh looked like a mistake, an abomination. Somehow it was. She touched it lightly. It was raw, rough, it didn’t feel like skin anymore. _It’s not human,_ she thought.  
They didn’t say anything for a long time. She just took off the bandages of his arm, then those of the other one, always revealing the same spectacle, the same broken flesh. His chest was in the same state, when she took off his clothes and peeled off those who covered it. She stopped for a moment when she went to his neck. _I’m stripping him,_ she figured out. She couldn’t help but smile and chuckle, pretty much like a teenage in front of the first naked man she saw. _Ludicrous._ He blinked too, unsettled.  
   
“Is there anything funny that I’ve missed?  
\- No,” she answered, still smiling. “But I just realized I was actually stripping you off.  
\- You don’t look like a shy virgin to me. I’m not the first bared man you see.  
\- Fortunately, no, you’re not. But I wasn’t planning on stripping you when I came.  
\- Well I still don’t know why you came in the first place.” His eyes were following her moves. He stopped her when her fingers touched his face. “I’m not sure you want to do this.”  
   
She suspended her move. _I’m not sure either,_ she thought. But she had to do it – she had to know what he looked like. Maybe seeing his broken face would help remember how he was _before_ , when they knew each other in the Legion. He was a ghost, Caesar’s ghost, he gave orders and he wasn’t always there. They never directly talked. He used to give her some orders, but that was all. She didn’t even remember his voice before she landed in Zion. So she shook her head and carried on, even more gently.  
   
“I don’t remember your face,” she said. “I want to remember it. You’re part of my past.  
\- I didn’t remember your face either, until the moment you spoke Latin. You don’t have to do this.  
\- I have to. Caesar destroyed both of us, you remember ? You can see what he’s done to me. I want to know what he’s done to you.”  
   
He released her hand and closed his eyes. She peeled the bandages off, slowly, revealing more and more skin. Its aspect was different from the rest of his body – it was really ghoul-like, she almost could see some of his tendons. _Maybe it’s just damaged skin?_ It seemed even more fragile, sensitive. His lips were completely destroyed, but she still could distinguish them in the mess of his flesh. They were still. She repressed a shiver and went on and soon enough, his head was completely uncovered.  
It was horrifying, what fire could do to a human being, but it wasn’t half as horrifying as she was expecting it to be. It was painful to watch, scary, but it was… _He still looks human._ Perhaps his body was the physical reflection of the darkest depths of his soul. _I would be such a monster if my body had to reflect who I really am._  
   
When he opened back his eyes and stared at her, she slightly smiled. He didn’t. He just stared, probably trying to imagine what she was thinking. _I don’t recognize him._ Even those eyes, she didn’t recognize them. _It’s not important._ She didn’t need to recognize him. She stretched out a hand to brush his cheek, carefully. He quivered. _Pain?_  
   
“I’m sorry, I didn’t…  
\- I didn’t think you would apologize so much in a single day,” he said. His lips twisted in a grin. “I’m not used to contact. You didn’t hurt me.  
\- No one touched you? For all these years?  
\- Not like you, no.” His smile disappeared and he raised a hand to touch her lips. She froze. “I don’t think anyone touched me like this before you. Afraid of hurting me. - The women I’ve been with… I was the one hurting them. How strange it feels, to be the most fragile one.  
\- Nothing a Legate ever felt before, isn’t it?”  
   
She smiled and leaned toward him. Her brain was clouded, as if she’d lost her memory again. But it felt strangely good, not to know what she was doing, who she was, who the man in front her was. _This is what I need. A solace. An oblivion._ Could he be those two things at once? She didn’t want to answer this question. Not now, anyway.  
She leaned a little bit more, enough for their lips to touch. His harsh, damaged lips against her smooth, soft lips. He let out a moan. She had no idea if it was a moan of pain or a moan of lust, desire, but she didn’t back away. She slid a hand on his neck and deepened the kiss. It was careful, gentle – it didn’t feel like any kiss she’d ever given or received. It was scared. Of pain, scared of bringing back memories that had vanished, scared of breaking the instant’s bliss. It lasted long, really long, and she felt his hands exploring her hair, her chest, her back. It felt weird, to have his raw skin against her. It didn’t feel perfect, but it felt. _This is so much._ This is just enough.  
   
“I thought you hated me,” he whispered against her lips. “I thought I was a monster.  
\- We’re all monsters here.  
\- You don’t look like a monster.  
\- It’s even worse.” She closed her eyes. “Because I fool everyone. You, Chalk, Boo…” She stopped and shook her head. “Everyone.”  
   
She didn’t even have the time to realize she was moving that he had stood up and taken her against his chest. She opened back her eyes and glared at him. He pressed her against him and kissed her. It wasn’t scared anymore. It wasn’t gentle anymore. It was wild, harsh. She groaned and returned him his kiss. _I’m out of my mind._ Maybe, but it felt good.  
He pinned her on the carpet that covered the dusty ground. Her head hit the floor, but she didn’t care. She was clinging unto his neck, gasping for him. He took off her jacket, the tank top underneath and bared her chest. She quivered when his hand brushed her skin, following the trace of Vulpes’ scar on her breast. He kissed it, gently at first, then harder. She moaned, unable to keep quiet.  
   
“Vulpes did that,” he growled on his skin. His hot breath caused her to shiver even more. “Does it still hurt?  
\- No…  
\- And this,” he said, coming back to his face and kissing the scar the bullet had left on her forehead. “Who?  
\- A man called Benny, from the Chairmen. He wanted… The package I was carrying.  
\- They both had really good taste, didn’t they?  
\- Graham…”  
   
It was a pleading. It was lingering, painfully lingering. He was keeping her languishing – and himself. She could feel his erection against her thighs as he was almost literally devouring her lips, her neck, leaving marks on her skin. _The Legion way,_ she thought from afar, trying to get him to speed up. When her hands reached his crotch, she figured out he still had his trousers on… And the bandages. _Fucking hell._  
She tore herself from him and turned to pin him to the ground. _My turn._ She smiled wickedly, trying to think about something else than the aching heat of her lower abdomen. She stripped him out his trousers and pants and started to take off the bandages. Her moves were a bit jerkier, pressing, as she slowly revealed his stomach’s skin. She heard a groan and stopped immediately.  
   
“I said gently,” he said, wincing. “I didn’t know I had his effect on you.  
\- Fuck you, Graham. Don’t think you’re getting away with it.  
\- I had no intention to.”  
   
His smiled grew hungrier, thirsty and she carried on her work, making sure she wasn’t too harsh. She wouldn’t have the patience to take the bandages of his legs – _I’ll stop when I’ll reach his knees_ , she thought while taking off those that covered the bulge of his groin. She got even more gently, not even sure if _this_ part was actually damaged or not. In any case, it was perfectly working, even if it was indeed heavily scarred. She couldn’t help but stare for a second, before smiling and skim it with light fingers. _He wanted me to pine for him? Let’s give him a taste of his own medicine._  
Even without eyebrows, she immediately saw that he was frowning. His eyes had narrowed, his smile had disappeared and he was holding her shoulders tight, a bit too tight perhaps. Maybe no one had touched him since the burning, but as a Legate, she was quite sure he had never been treated like this. _Like a normal man, with a free woman._ Her smiled widened as she felt his cock twitching under her touch.  
   
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he uttered, apparently annoyed. _And aroused._ “Come here.  
\- So now you give me orders and you think I’ll follow them?  
\- We both know how we Legion people do that.” He jerked up and pinned her back to the ground, blocking her wrists on the ground. “Don’t we?  
\- I’m no slave of yours,  
\- The collar wouldn’t suit you anyway.”  
   
He grabbed her waist to prevent her from moving and eased himself inside her. She tensed immediately and let out a moan – she wasn’t going to fight him on this. She squeezed at his shoulders, his back, whatever her hands reached, trying not to scratch him. How bittersweet it must have been for him. She closed her eyes, following every each of his thrusts, so deep inside her, trying to get him to bury himself even more in her. She could hear the half-groan, half-moan he was letting out too, filled with as much pain as pleasure, wishing for more and for less at the same time.  
A part of her mind feared that it would get too painful for him. Even if it did, he didn’t let out of her, keeping her close to him, making himself deeper and deeper, tearing whimpers from her. At that very moment, with his massive body above hers, his face so close to hers, she felt it, the lightness she knew before everything collapsed. It hadn’t anything to do with the brutal waves of pleasure that irradiated her body or with his nails scarring her shoulders, it didn’t even have anything to do with his lips pressed against her breasts, licking with a consuming hunger her nipples. _He_ was the thing she was searching for, the thing that should soothe the wildfires of her mind and ease her pain.  
   
When she cried out his name, his first name, a name no woman had ever screamed for him, it sounded just right and for the first time in ages, she didn’t feel stupid, foolish or weak while whimpering, shivering and moaning to a man. And when it got even more intense, even wilder and pressing, she closed her eyes and lost herself to him. It was more than anything she’d ever done with any man before.  
He came first, with a groan so hoarse, so rough that it must have come from the deepest depths within him. Feeling him coming inside of her made her follow him shortly. Her harsh breath grew hotter, jerkier, her body grew tauter as the last and most violent wave of pleasure washed over her. And, slowly, gradually, she started to relax. He slipped out of her and let himself fall next to her. Lips parted, a hand on her forehead, she tried to get a grasp of what just happened. Even when her mind went back to its normal state, it still felt as weird as it felt incredible. And when she opened her eyes back, Joshua was staring at her. _Thank goodness dear old Caesar is dead, I just fucked the former Legate he swore the end._


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After two weeks of absence (I was in Scandinavia chasing the midnight sun), I'm back with more chapters. Enjoy !

**Heaven from Hell**

* * *

**V**

“I still don’t know why you came here,” he said with a raspy voice, turned toward her. “And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t for that.  
\- I dare you to say you didn’t want that.  
\- It’s not my point. I hardly believe you just came because you were bored.  
\- I wasn’t, Chalk was going to hunt and I’m pretty sure I could’ve asked him to come along.”  
   
He frowned. This wasn’t the answer he was waiting for – it wasn’t an answer at all. But she had no idea, she just came because she felt like it. _I have to be a little bit less of a jerk with him, given what happened yesterday._ She sighed and turned too, resting her head against her closed fist. There were still muscles under this heavily scarred skin. He still was a massive man, she’d felt it when he had pined her to the ground. But then again, she couldn’t remember his face before the fire. _Maybe it’s okay. Maybe I don’t really care._  
   
“I get it, you really want an answer. I don’t know, I just thought I had to make amend for the things I told you yesterday. I acted like a jerk, and even if you weren’t any better, I thought that I owed that to you, before leaving the valley.  
\- You still want to leave?  
\- You think it’s as easy as a good fuck to keep me here ?” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not _this_  
\- You’re as far as the Legion as you’ll ever be, regardless of the distance you’ll put between you and the Mojave.”  
   
She frowned. He didn’t make sense. Every mile she would put between herself and the Mojave would increase the distance between herself and the Legion, simple logic. He didn’t move, staring at her. His face wasn’t exactly more expressive without the dressings, but his damaged skin emphasized his eyes to the point that they looked surreal. Way too bright. _Painful._  
So she stared back. And slowly, she understood what he meant. No matter how much distance she would put between the Legion and herself, the Legion would always be there, lurking in the depths of her memories and soul. She could as well go to the other side of the continent that it wouldn’t change anything about that. So here or miles away from the Mojave – what difference did it make?  
   
“There’s always a risk,” she sighed. “They could come at any time, if only they want to.  
\- You destroyed them, didn’t you?  
\- I didn’t completely blow off the Legion. Legate Lanius is still in Arizona, where I sent him.  
\- You… kept him as a Legate?  
\- I killed Caesar. I needed someone to back me and he seemed like the perfect guy.” She turned on her back again and stared at the cave’s ceiling. “I was planning on killing him and put Vulpes in his stead. Thus, the Arizona thing. I needed him far away until I was strong enough to cut his throat.”  
   
 _Rather, until I found the courage to ask someone to do it._ Graham had never scared her, when he was a Legate. He was rarely there, and when he was, he was too busy to ever find the time to be interested in her. Legate Lanius, on the other hand… Well, she was fifteen when he became Caesar’s personal hound. At that age, most slave girls were already used as sex slaves. _And_ she was Caesar’s daughter.  
It was but a mere feeling she always had, given that no one ever saw Lanius’ face under the mask, but she always felt ill at ease when near him. Vulpes absolutely _adored_ to mock her with that, saying that the proud Iulia feared no one except the Monster of the East and his dangerous intentions toward her. She often wondered if her father was really planning on marrying her to him. _Well I’ll never find out about that, will I?_  
   
“So you kept the second most powerful man of the Legion alive,” he slowly repeated. “And you still burnt down the Fort.  
\- I’m not asking for your advice on the issue, Graham. We were having a great moment and you ruined it all with your philosophical questions.  
\- All I’m saying is, Lanius will take over the remnants.  
\- I don’t give a shit and that’s exactly why I’m leaving as soon as I can.”  
   
 _Why does it have to be like this?_ She almost thought he wasn’t such a jerk after all, but there he was, lecturing her about her poor life choices. _Says the guy who got burnt after a series of poor battle choices._ She sighed again, louder and searched for her clothes. They were scattered all around them, so she had to stand up to get all of them.  
She was putting back her tank top when she felt a hand on her wrist. She turned and lowered her head to see Graham, still looking at her. He still had his old bandages around most of his legs. _Oh, well, yeah didn’t have time for them I guess._ She frowned.  
   
“What? You’re not going to beg me to stay, are you?  
\- No, I’m not,” he replied with a sharp voice. “But I don’t want you to think I’m judging you for what you did with the Legion.  
\- Oh, _right_ , because you clearly are not judging me right now.  
\- It wasn’t the most rational alternative, but it wasn’t about being rational. I got that. All I want to say is that fleeing east is not going to change anything to the fact that the Legion is a part of you. Wherever you go, you’ll still find people so similar to Caesar, to Vulpes… To me and you, that you will see the Legion in them.  
\- And staying here, with you, will change that?  
\- But at least you’ll be safe and offered to live a peaceful existence.”  
   
 _As if a tribal life was enough for me._ It wasn’t even really enough for him, the sudden interest he had in her was a striking proof. She was from the Mojave, from the civilisation. From before. If he was so willing to turn the page of the Legion, he shouldn’t have been so anxious to talk, discuss, exchange with her. It wasn’t healthy.  
She smiled and shook her head, putting her clothes back on. It was probably late evening by now, but she needed some fresh air. And by fresh air she meant air from outside this cave – if the Canyon was half as beautiful as all of those tribals said, it should be worth some sightseeing. And she had _plenty_ of time to lose anyway.  
   
“I’m not into the whole peaceful, farmer life, thank you.” She looked around, making sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. “I’m going to do a bit of trekking in your _splendid_ valley.  
\- Do as you wish, you’re free to go anywhere you want.  
\- I do hope so, yes. Do you want help for your bandages?  
\- You’re a curious woman,” he smiled. “You’re so eager to leave when the conversation takes a turn you don’t like, yet you want to help me?  
\- I’m just being polite here, I’m giving it a try. Don’t take it personally.”  
   
She rolled her eyes. _He didn’t answer me._ She wasn’t exactly against the idea of helping him, but she certainly wasn’t going to insist. He stood up to sit on the chair he was originally sitting on and took off the few dressings that remained. It was weird. He didn’t look naked. His skin looked like some kind of ghoulish disguise, something that he would have put on. Even if she knew only too well that he was well and truly naked since she, well, stripped him, she still couldn’t get the thought out of her mind.  
   
“Then it’s nice of you but no, I’d rather do it myself. I need to bathe and it’s not a pleasant time. For anyone.  
\- I see. Well, if you need anything, I’ll be outside, screaming at the stars and singing some ballad by moonlight.  
\- For someone who was practically going to kill me, to cry and to leave, you talk a hell too much. And still you forget the most important thing.  
\- What?” She laughed. “Kissing dear old Graham?  
\- I wasn’t thinking about that, no.”  
   
He smiled and, in a swift move, hammered something into the table in front of him. The glimmering light of the torches reflected on what looked like a knife. _Is it my…_ Stiletto. Why of course. It was on her ankle, and she didn’t realize it wasn’t there anymore. _He took it when he stripped me,_ she figured out. She greeted her teeth and seized it. She placed it at its place and crossed her arms, miffed. It was a rookie mistake, something someone like her couldn’t even think about. In the heat of the moment, she didn’t even care about her weapon.  
   
“Is it the one Caesar gave you for your fifteenth birthday?  
\- More like for the day I became a Frumentarius,” she corrected. “The guy wasn’t into birthdays, y’know.  
\- Probably, but the two dates surprisingly matched. I wouldn’t have expected you to keep it.  
\- It’s a fine weapon. Very sharp. Hard to blunt. Useful in close quarters. I don’t see a reason why I would have left it.  
\- Of course.” His voice grew softer, smoother. Almost charming. “Because you _really_ like close quarters.”  
   
She raised an eyebrow and almost burst out into laughter. This was probably the clumsiest innuendo she’d ever heard, and it came from the most smooth-talking guy she’d ever met. _Well, I’m his first lay in five years and Legion guys aren’t exactly known for their subtlety._ And it was actually kind of endearing, so she refrained from laughing even more and waved her hand. His eyes were shining with amusement too and when she went to the entrance of the cave, she turned back to see him disappear in a dark corner.  
Everyone was already sleeping when she went through the main caves. She searched for a long time, but finally found the entrance. Two tribals were there, guarding it. They didn’t say anything when she walked out of the caves, they just looked at her.  
   
She breathed deeply. The sky was of the purest black, only disturbed by tiny dots of light, shining stars, and the moon. The air seemed so pure, compared to the Mojave’s. And a sweet breeze was blowing, chilling the atmosphere. She smiled and walked, idly. She didn’t have anything to do, except wasting time and exploring. She followed the few torches that lightened the Canyon, then took one to climb at the top of a rocky cliff. It wasn’t the highest, but still she could distinguish what surrounded Joshua Graham’s Zion.  
It was an incredible sight, for someone like her. She never knew anything but sand, dusty places and radioactive winds. Everything looked so… Natural. So untouched. As if this particular place had never been touched by the bombs. As if this particular place hadn’t seen the war. _Maybe the bombs didn’t fall here,_ she thought, sitting at the edge of the cliff, feet dangling in the black void underneath. There was nothing but night and silence, not the kind of silence that terrified her. The kind of silence that could soothe any pain, any terror. _Is it why Graham stopped there?_  
   
She still couldn’t really accept the idea that he willingly decided to stay. He could’ve gone anywhere, but here? Amongst tribals that didn’t even spoke his language? Among those the Legion was already reclaiming? Wasting his time training them, caring about them? It didn’t sound like him. It didn’t even _look_ like him. But there she was, listening to the sound of silence with eyes closed, wondering what it would be to stay.  
It would be a life of hunts. A savage life. A degenerate, profligate life, as Vulpes loved to say. It couldn’t be any further from the life she used to have, back in the Mojave. But maybe it was exactly what she was searching for. _Black tattoos and savage names to match my black soul and savage existence._  
   
When she opened back her eyes, however, things had changed. There were other lights than those of the stars – fires, burning in the distance. She couldn’t see what was going on, it was too remote and way too dark, but those fires were burning too bright, there were too many. _This can’t be right._ She went down the cliff and tried to get closer to the lights, guessing that she couldn’t get too close without risking her life. She could hear voices, screams. Female screams. _No, this can’t be._ She shrugged it off, but headed toward the caves. Graham had to know about this.  
As she was walking back to the mountain, she heard other noises. Moans. Agonizing ones. She froze, turned around and searched for the origin of the groans. She almost walked on said origin – it came from a man crawling on the ground. She kneeled next to him to inspect him. She couldn’t see much, but he was severely injured. _How did he survive?_  
   
“Hey, what happened to you? Why are you so injured?” She asked. He weakly answered but, of course, in a language she couldn’t possibly understand. “Oh Lord. Shh, calm down. Just tell me who. Who did that to you?  
\- Tribe!” He cried with pain. “Bull on blood flag!  
\- Bull? Blood flag? It wasn’t the Legion, right?  
\- Leejion! Leejion!”  
   
She felt her blood rushing out of her head, a cold shiver rushing down her spine. She, opened her eyes wide, unable to do or say anything else for the longest minutes. _The Legion. The Legion is there._ What felt like a blessing, a sweet dream, was turning into the darkest nightmare and she had no idea how to escape it. The tribal was still blabbering, saying things she didn’t understand. _Graham._  
She told him not to move and rushed toward the guards at the entrance of the caves. She tried to tell them a man was injured and needed help, but they didn’t quite understand her. She was already losing her cool when a familiar face appeared behind the two guards. _Fucking Lord, Follow-Chalk._  
   
“One of your men is gravely injured, you must tell them to go and get him before he bleeds to death!  
\- I tell them!” He started to speak in his weird language, as fast as possible. They pushed her aside to run and find their fellow tribal. “What happened?  
\- I… I don’t know, but I must see Graham.  
\- Wait, why can’t you…  
\- I must tell him!”  
   
She ran inside the caves, where everyone had been woken up by her screams and useless attempts to talk their language. She didn’t have to search for Graham for long; he was already in the main cave, staring at her as she entered it. He had put his bandages back, and his eyes were fiercely glowing, half worried and half annoyed. _You’re damn right to be worried, pal._ She took him aside from the rustling crowd and tried to find her words.  
But it was nearly impossible. They were stuck in her throat and she was choking on them, trying to find some air – some words to tell him what was happening. Her head was spinning, her heart was beating hard in her chest. Everything around her felt like she was on a rotating disk that wasn’t going to stop – everything was revolving around her. She didn’t even realize she was gasping until he put his hands on her shoulder and shook her. She didn’t even feel it until it became almost violent.  
   
“Ash, _Ash_!” He cried out, glaring at her. His eyes were now completely darkened. _Is he scared?_ “Calm down!  
\- They’re here!  
\- Who is here? What is going on?  
\- A Dead Horse, he…” She closed her eyes. _Jesus fucking Christ I need to get my shit together_. She kept quiet for a few seconds, before opening them again. “I couldn’t see, it was pitch black, but he has been beaten up.  
\- I thought you didn’t care about the…  
\- By the Legion,” she continued without even noticing he had talked. “They’re here, Graham!”  
   
A silent lingered between them, shocked. His hands on her shoulders tensed, then fell lifelessly. His eyes, already clouded, were now almost opaque. As if his mind had broken. _It had._ She ran a hand across her face. Her hands were trembling. She was trembling. _I did it. It’s my fault._  
He was right. She should have killed Lanius as soon as possible. She should have ignored her fear and unease. She should’ve put down the last dangerous man of the Legion when it was possible. _Now he’s searching for me. He’s hunting me._ It was the only reason why he was there, waiting for the perfect time to attack and reduce this piece of heaven into hell. _Zion into limbo._ To destroy these tribes, everything they built, everything they learnt to do. To destroy the last New-Canaanites. And destroy, at last, the Burned Man in memory of the late Caesar.  
   
Hopeless, desperate, she felt her knees going weak under her weight. She collapsed on the dirt. But she didn’t cry. She didn’t have any tears left – she didn’t have the right to cry. Like a coward, she’d fled the Legion thinking it would be enough to get rid of them. And she was going to die like a coward, surrounded by people who didn’t ask for anything, people whose only wrong was to have tried to help her. Save her, or whatever was left of her.  
And it was always like that. Every time she thought she could live something else than the Legion’s hell, someone had to die for the sake of this hope. Boone. Vulpes. _Boone._ He didn’t deserve it. She always knew it, but she always refused to acknowledge it. She repeated herself that it was for his own good, that it had been painless. That it could have been awful. But in the end, she’d killed the only man who didn’t care about her past. Perhaps the only man who could’ve saved her, when it was still possible. And now, it was Graham and his tribes’ turn. _I should have died from that bullet. I should have died in my mother’s womb. I should have died from Caesar’s wrath._ She should have died. Painfully. She wasn’t good. She would never be.  
   
“Get up.” It was an order, coming from above. “You don’t have the right to close your eyes. You don’t have the right to flee, not this time.  
\- I warned you. I told you I destroy everything I touch. This is… Just a proof.” She obeyed, stood up and faced him. She took the stiletto on her ankle and handed it to him. “Do it.  
\- Do what?  
\- Kill me. Give my body to Lanius, and pray your fucking God it’s enough for him to leave Zion without burning it to the ground.”  
   
She didn’t move, a hand outstretched in his direction, waiting for him to take the knife and end her stupid existence. When he took it, she almost sighed with relief. She wouldn’t have to see Lanius roaming these lands, setting everyone on fire, destroying every little corner of the caves. Torturing Follow-Chalk, enrolling the youths to turn them into perfect legionaries. Enslaving the women. Tainting forever a place left untouched by the madness of men.  
He weighed up the stiletto, glared at it. His eyes were still dull, so dull. _They look like mine._ Could it be possible that after all these years, after all these sufferings, Joshua Graham was still as scared by Caesar’s shadow as her? Could it be that they were so alike that they were nothing but each other’s reflection? _Please, kill me._ It was a plea. A supplication. And when he raised the blade, she didn’t move, she didn’t cower. She looked at the knife, almost smiling. He wasn’t going to miss her. He knew how to kill. _Vulpes knew too._ But he was dying. And he knew that allowing her to live was even more painful than killing her. Graham’s eyes were still distant, the blue of his eyes looked so lifeless. It wasn’t him. And it all went so fast. The time of a breath and the blade has disappeared.  
   
But not in her body.


	6. VI

**Heaven from Hell**

* * *

**VI**

The silence grew shocked, incredulous. She stared at him blankly, unable to get a grasp of what had just happened. The knife was stuck in the cave’s wall, under her ear. And it was shining at the corner of her eyes, shining furiously, just like Graham’s eyes. The dullness had disappeared; instead, an actual fury was gleaming in his irises. A murderous rage. And it struck her, suddenly. She remembered what he looked like.  
Everything he used to look like, every feature he used to have were made for this murderous rage. The angles of his face, his prominent cheekbones, his thin lips hardly visible when he pursed them, the thin wrinkles around his eyes, his skin’s pallor, everything just enhanced the severity and the fury of his eyes. He was not particularly handsome, he didn’t have this cold nobility that Vulpes had. He didn’t have this terrifying presence Caesar had. He was a shadow, lurking behind Caesar’s back. A monster all the same, but the dark sort of monster. _The last thing you don’t see._ But his eyes, they glowed the same way they were glowing in front of her. He wanted to kill. He wanted blood. He wanted violence. _Then why didn’t he kill me?_ At this very moment, she felt fear. A kind they hadn’t felt in ages. Ever since her mother had fallen in front of her, between the Frumentarii sent to retrieve her and her childish self. She didn’t fear death – she feared pain.  
   
“Why?” she stammered. “You could…

\- You think your blood will be enough to quench Lanius’ thirst? You think your blood can pay for the lives he will take when he decides to attack us?” He came closer to her, circling her neck with his hand. Her heart was pounding. He felt it. “At last you’re afraid? What is it you’re scared of? My wrath? The things I could do to you, to avenge those who will die because of you?  
\- I’m not afraid of death.  
\- Of course you’re not. You want it. Even when you gave yourself to me, you were hoping I’d kill you.”  
   
She gulped and felt a single tear running down her face. She wanted it to end. She wanted to never have existed at all. She didn’t want him to suffer, she didn’t want the tribes to pay her debts. _I don’t care about them._ But it was a lie. Much like Boone, they had accepted her without even wondering who she used to be. They just saw the woman she was, the scarred, broken, cold woman that appeared in their canyon.  
And Graham. He who could have killed her, who could have left her to die under the burning sun. What had he seen in her, that he managed to convince himself she was worth saving? _Why is he not killing me now?_ She raised a hand, put it on his. _Just tighten your grip and it’ll be over._ It felt like a promise. A dream.  
   
“They’re here because of me,” she almost cried. “I brought them here. How can you know I didn’t do it on purpose? Maybe I led them here to have your head!  
\- Iulia would have done it. I have no doubts on that. But you’re not Iulia anymore. Now I can see it.  
\- Why would you care? I brought destruction on your fucking holy land!  
\- Much like I did,” he said, emotionless. “I brought destruction on New-Canaan when I came to them, after what happened in the Grand Canyon. Am I dead?”  
   
She shook her head. He didn’t release her, but his grip became… Almost tender, as if he was just trying to protect her from herself. He took back the stiletto with his other hand and put in his trousers’ pocket, never taking his eyes off hers. Around them, the Dead Horses were preparing. Getting ready for war. Taking weapons out of crates. They weren’t even looking at them. They didn’t see them. _We’re not them._ We. It felt so adequate, to say we.  
In a corner of her mind, a crazy hope had appeared and whispered that she wasn’t alone anymore. That he was the same as her. That he was going to offer her a shelter, that he already had. But it couldn’t be. She didn’t deserve it, he had no right to risk everyone else’s lives for her. And she didn’t even know if she wanted to have a shelter, to live. _I don’t. I do. I don’t know._  
   
“It was as though the prodigal son had returned. They welcomed me like I had never left, never done anything to shame them,” he said. His eyes were now incredibly sad, staring at his lost past. The sadness made her shiver. “My return was a death sentence and they probably knew it, but they cured me. And they fought for me.” He took off his hand from her neck and brushed her cheek with a light finger. “The fire that had kept me alive was their love. I will never be able to repay the debt I owe to them, nor will I ever be able to undo what I have done to them.  
\- I don’t want to live with a debt like this anymore. I can’t do that.  
\- You don’t have a choice, Ash. This is a burden only you can bear. But I can help you with it. They can help you, if you help us. We can defend Zion.  
\- God will not help us here.  
\- We don’t need him.”  
   
The last sentence had been murmured, barely audible. She didn’t say anything, she just lowered her eyes. His voice was slowly soothing her, getting her back to earth. She took a deep breath and nodded, slightly. He put a hand on her jaw, brushing it as if he was scared of breaking her. _I’m not a porcelain doll._ Her skin was made of the hardest stone, as well as her heart. _Maybe not so hard._ She could feel it breaking apart, revealing the organ’s tender and fragile flesh. It didn’t feel half as painful as she had imagined it would.  
She buried herself in his arms, clinging onto his chest, on the bulletproof vest he was wearing. His fingers were toying with her hair and he didn’t say, didn’t do anything. They didn’t have time but he gave her some. And she smiled, her face on his shoulder, she just smiled because he was warm. She had never known anyone warm before. Vulpes was ice cold and even when she was in his arms, she still could feel the ice in his veins. He’d never tried to be more than a Legion man, a comrade with benefits. _Can it be said?_ Boone was cold too, but a different kind of cold. He wasn’t exactly cold, but he didn’t know how to be warm. He was a presence, but not a comforting one. He was there, but he wasn’t there _for her._  
   
 _God, I’m in Malpais Legate’s arms and it feels damn good._ It didn’t make any sense. Nothing made sense: he was twice her age, if not more, she had sworn to have his head to Caesar, he was probably as mad as her, she was only there by accident, the Legion was going to unleash its hounds of hell upon his shelter because of her and they should’ve killed each other, but somewhere along the line, they decided not to. What were the odds that among every men in this god-forsaken land, only he was able to understand and, somehow, to accept her the way she was? A twisted, broken, destroyed way, but so much like his own. And it wasn’t love and it was never going to be, because love was for children and pure hearts and theirs were everything but pure, but it was something so deep, so painful but at the same time so real that she couldn’t ignore it. And she didn’t want to.  
So she nodded again, more firmly, and she dragged herself out of his arms to face him. She smiled again and in his eyes, she recognized the man he once had been and the way he looked at his men when he was going to war. She wasn’t going to obey him and he wasn’t going to obey her; they were going to war together against what had destroyed them.  
   
“We need a plan.  
\- Do you have one to offer?  
\- I may have one. You’re not going to like it, though.  
\- Fire away,” he said, apparently frowning. “You’re not a bad tactician.  
\- If they want me, let’s give them what they want.  
\- Good shot, it’s a terrible plan.” He crossed his arms on his chest and looked around. “Lanius will crucify you if he doesn’t just cut your head off and he will still attack us.”  
   
She sighed. He was right. Terribly right. But the truth was she didn’t have any plan whatsoever. Everything she could think of, it was always bad. They didn’t have an army, they had two tribes barely capable of maintaining their territory. On the other hand, Lanius had, well, everything that remained from the Legion. She had no idea how many legionaries had survived – she only knew that she had sent him in Arizona with two hundreds or so soldiers. Even if it was only about those two hundreds, they were still outnumbered. _Are we?_ She had no idea how many fighters the Dead Horses and the Sorrows had.  
   
“How many men do we have?” she asked, looking around to see the tribals pacing the caves, trying to understand what was going on. “And I’m speaking of capable men, not children.  
\- Overall, around two and a half hundreds. Some Dead Horses women are trained to fight, but it doesn’t add more than a dozen of potential forces.  
\- There’s absolutely no way we’re going to withstand the Legion with two hundreds men, Graham. We’re talking of heavily trained soldiers, not… Tribals.  
\- Enough scorn, you’re not proposing any solution.” His eyes were critical. He turned toward the crowds that were assembling around them. “I have to talk to them. We must wait for our scout to wake up.  
\- If he ever wakes up.”  
   
She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. He walked to them and started to speak in their language – it sounded weird in his mouth and she obviously didn’t understand anything. She stayed for a few minutes but decided to go and see the injured one. She found him in a tent, apart from the others, surrounded by tribals. Daniel was there, in a corner, glaring at him with worried eyes. _I almost forgot he existed,_ she thought when she stopped next to him. He didn’t really look at her. He just moved a little bit to give her space.  
They were more or less operating on him, probably trying to stitch his open wounds to stop the blood from flooding out. His skin was already very pale, under the shaky light of the lanterns. She looked around and couldn’t help staring at the tents’ walls. The _doctors’_ shadows were like huge black figures, vaguely threatening, thrown everywhere around them. The instruments they were using seemed even bigger, even more archaic. And the poor scout seemed even smaller. _He’s so young,_ she realized when she saw his face. She looked away and gulped.  
   
“They’re not going to be done any soon,” Daniel said in a hushed voice. “I’m not even sure they’re going to save him.  
\- Is it that bad?  
\- Worse than anything I’ve ever seen.  
\- So they let him go.” She shook her head. “They wanted him to die here.  
\- He said something. About you.”  
   
She closed her eyes. Why of course he said something about her. He was dying because of her – soon enough, they were all going to be dead because of her. Without Graham and his soothing speeches, the harsh truth was as painful as it should have been. _And it means fucking painful._ He gestured her to follow him outside. And so she did.  
He led her behind the tent, where no one could hear them. She ran a hand across her face and waited for him to speak. She didn’t feel like pushing him to tell her everything the almost-dead tribal had told him before falling into a coma. And the way he was staring at her, she guessed it wasn’t anything particularly cheering.  
   
“He said their leader wanted to retrieve you. They put him in this… Condition because they think Graham abducted you.  
\- They think…” She blinked, blankly. “Did he say anything else?  
\- He tried. I didn’t understand anything else. Does it make sense to you?  
\- Somehow it does, yes. I think I have to speak with Graham.  
\- I’m coming with you,” he retorted. “Both of you are bringing us all into a war we’re not ready for, I need to understand why.”  
   
 _You won’t like it, buddy._ She still nodded and they walked back to Graham’s cave. Everyone around them was getting ready for the upcoming attack. She even spotted Follow-Chalk giving orders. He smiled to her when he caught her eyes and waved. She tried to smile back. He was getting ready, just like the others, to the worst fight of his life. She had no idea how the one against the White Legs had gone, but in no way it could’ve been worse than what was coming. _They should have seen it coming with me._ She was the first storm and the last. Their last.  
Graham was standing in the middle of his cave, glaring at the guns on his desk, probably trying to come up with a plan, any plan. But he knew it as well as she did that they had absolutely no chance of victory against the Legion if they went into a traditional fight – even with their knowledge of the lands. It wasn’t going to be subtle, with dear old Lanius. It was going to be brutal and devastating, it was going to be raging fire against weak weirs. She kept quiet while Daniel was telling him everything the scout had told him. Joshua wasn’t looking at him. He was glaring at her, his eyes locked in hers. She shook her head slowly. _There’s no way._ She had to go into their camp. She had to try. Even if she died there, she was going to die anyway sooner or later. _The sooner the better with the Legion._  
   
“How can they believe you were abducted?” he finally asked. “Have you told them anything that could have led them into thinking…  
\- I didn’t. I think Lanius can’t accept the idea that I, Caesar’s rightful heir, could have set the Fort on fire on my own after everything I did to seize control of the Legion…” she absent-mindedly said, pacing the cave. “He probably heard rumours about me being here and… Jumped to the conclusion that I must have been snatched.  
\- That doesn’t make any sense. No one would ever believe such a thing.  
\- You don’t know Lanius, Daniel.” She stopped. “He’s down to earth, to say the least. He doesn’t have any understanding of feelings, human reactions and subtle plans. - He’s a war chief, not a political leader.”  
   
Graham’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t know Lanius either – he became a Legate after his execution. But he obviously knew his reputation and he wasn’t called the Monster of the East for nothing. He was ruthless, violent, cruel and, surprisingly, overly honour-oriented. But what he had of honour, he lacked in slyness and cunning. He despised Vulpes’ technics because they were _treacherous_. Diplomacy was a dirty word for him. His blade was his tongue and the blood he spilled, his only words.  
Daniel looked at them both, trying to understand what was going on between them. She smiled and nodded. Her plan wasn’t so bad, after all. Lanius didn’t want her dead. He wanted her _back._ She had won the Legion rightfully, at least he believed she did. The truth was slightly different but what he didn’t know couldn’t harm him. She was his new Caesar and his duty was to _save her from the Burned Man’s claws._ It was hilarious, really.  
   
“Graham, you already know what I’m going to say.  
\- I still think it is not a good idea,” he shot back. “I may not know Lanius as well as you, but if Caesar’s cleverness is to be trusted, he didn’t appoint a brute as a Legate.  
\- After what happened with you, he didn’t want someone with a mind. He wanted someone with a voice to lead and a blade to kill. Lanius is not stupid, he’s just not… You and I. He won’t suspect a wicked plan like this if nothing hints at it.  
\- Yeah yeah, glad you two get along so well,” Daniel interrupted. “But can you make this a bit more understandable? What were you going to say?  
\- I was going to say that I have to infiltrate their camp.”  
   
She almost heard Graham disapproving her again. Daniel blinked a few times before realizing she really meant what she just said. She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. The guy wasn’t stupid either, but he had troubles understanding that she was deadly serious at the moment. He tried to find support in Graham’s eyes, but he didn’t help him. _You know I’m right._ He just didn’t want to say it. Plus, even if it was a bit less of a suicide, the dangerousness’ ratio was still awfully high. And even if she was a force to be reckoned with, she would be alone and surrounded.  
And there was something else. If she were to let her surrender herself, it would mean that she had their lives in her hands. That she would be the key to their survival… Or obliteration. And it would also mean that he fully, completely, utterly trusted her with not only his, but everyone’s life. _I wouldn’t even trust myself with my own life._ She wouldn’t be surprised if he refused.  
   
“If you do that,” he coldly said. “How will you proceed?  
\- Lanius will want me to fight with him against you and the tribes. I will have to fake loyalty, but I can fool him. He’s pretty much alone since most of the officers are dead, so no one will suspect me.  
\- Isn’t he going to find out what’s really going on?  
\- At some point he will,” she granted Daniel. “But not before I allow him to. I’ll sabotage their gear and I’ll have some of your best fighters enter the camp during the night. We’ll open the gate and… Well, hell on earth.  
\- The element of surprise has always been the Legion’s greatest weakness. If the soldiers find themselves orderless and disorganized, we have a chance to defeat them.  
\- And it is our only chance.”  
   
It took Daniel a few seconds before he nodded. The man was practical, pragmatic, and he knew how desperate they were. Plus, he didn’t know how she was and even if he knew some things, he only knew what was obvious: she came from the Legion, she gave up on them, she was a somewhat skilled fighter. He had no reason to believe she would betray them.  
But Graham had many reasons, and the way he was looking at her was pregnant. But he nodded too and asked Daniel to get everyone ready. _Pick the ten most skilled to form the vanguard,_ he ordered. The Mormon assented and went out of the cave. She stayed, because she had received no order. And because she wanted to know what was in the Burned Man’s mind at the moment.  
   
He turned away and sat on his chair, in front of his desk. She hadn’t noticed he had his Bible in his hand. He kept it in this hand when he started to pile guns upon guns, silently. It was at this very moment, this only and precise moment when he turned her back on her, that she realized how much Vulpes looked like him. Of course, there was a similarity in their lean, angular faces and, of course, there was more than a mere similarity in the cold blue of their eyes. But it was something else, something in the way they both moved. They both had a surreal grace that made every simple moves look almost balletic. She had lost so much time, staring at Vulpes when he trained himself. She didn’t have this smoothness – when she fought, it was rough, hardly better-looking than a raider struggling to stay alive.  
But with Vulpes, it was different. He was a rough man, everything about him was rough except his mind and his manners. He was coldly graceful, coldly handsome, coldly smart. He was fascinating. They had grown up together, he had shaped her into the fierce woman she was now and she had shaped him into the ruthless leader he had been. And Graham was somehow the same; he had the same subtlety, the same fake delicateness. _I have to stop comparing them,_ she realized. They weren’t the same at all. She had killed Vulpes. She hadn’t killed Graham. She had loved Vulpes. She would never love Graham, not the way she loved the leader of the Frumentarii anyway. Vulpes had known Iulia and a bit of Six. Graham knew every each parts of her on instincts. She had never quite known the depths of Vulpes’ soul. She knew Graham’s on the same instinct.  
   
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, still checking the guns. “You seem very thoughtful.  
\- I was thinking about Vulpes Inculta.  
\- Why?  
\- Because…” She smiled for herself. “He looked like you, somehow.  
\- Did he? I never realized.” He stopped moving around and turned his head to her. “In what aspects?  
\- The way you move. The way you think too. He was as smart as you are. I guess it is why Caesar didn’t kill him when he could have.  
\- Except that he’s dead and I’m not. Not yet, anyway.”  
   
She heard the innuendo behind the jape. And saw it in the tiny flames in his eyes. _I could be his death._ She could be everyone’s death, for that matter. She walked and stopped in front of him. She sat on the carpet they’ve been fucking on a hour or so ago and smiled again. He had the answer to her untold question in his eyes, but she couldn’t see what this answer was. Maybe she was afraid to know. Maybe she didn’t want. _But I need to know._ So she asked him.  
   
“Graham. Do you trust me?” 


	7. VII

**Heaven from Hell**

* * *

**VII**

“Should I?  
\- Vulpes trusted me. I put a knife in his heart. Boone… The sniper trusted me and I put a knife in his stomach. The Legion trusted me and I set it on fire.” She started to laugh. “Hell, you trusted Caesar and he set _you_ on fire!  
\- Even my close friend in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, had lifted up his heel against me,” he recited, brushing his Bible’s cover. “I learnt the hard way that Caesar’s blood wasn’t trustworthy. But you have not answered me. Should I trust you?”  
   
She kept quiet, unable to answer. People had gave her their trust – plenty of them had. She didn’t betray every one of them, but in the end, most of them had ended up dead before she had the opportunity. Who knew if she wasn’t going to betray Graham and his tribes for Lanius? Maybe fleeing the Legion wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe it was just a tantrum – maybe she still belonged in the Mojave, under the Bull’s flag. Who knew?  
 _No one should trust me,_ she thought. But it wasn’t what she was going to tell him. She couldn’t say that to him, could she? She didn’t want to. A part of her, the most irrational one or what remained of it, wanted Joshua Graham to place his trust in her for this plan. The same part of her that used to want Caesar to be proud of her, despite everything he’d done to her. _The part that’s seeking acknowledgement._ The part that longed for someone at her side. Anyone but especially him. She sighed and shook her head. She couldn’t lie. She wasn’t any trustworthier than Caesar – than her father.  
   
“I don’t know. I wish I could tell you that you can trust me, but experience shows the contrary. I’m a monster, a Legion’s monster. I’ve not been shaped into someone trustworthy.  
\- And still you didn’t kill me when you could have.” His eyes were smiling. “I’m as much a monster as you are, and still I didn’t kill you when I could have. If you’re not trustworthy, then neither am I.  
\- Did I say I trust you?” She smiled and laughed. “I don’t think so.  
\- You don’t have to say it. You wouldn’t have told all these things to someone you don’t trust.”  
   
 _He has a point._ But not _distrusting_ someone does not necessarily equates _trusting_ this person. And she couldn’t help but wonder what she would’ve thought, in the same situation, if he were in her shoes and she in his. He probably had betrayed plenty of people and the Mormons were leading the way and he could’ve been able to betray people he barely knew. But for the Legion? _Nah._ It didn’t make sense.  
 _It’s the same for me,_ she realized. She was totally able to betray the Dead Horses and the Sorrows, Daniel and Graham. But she wasn’t able to do it for the Legion. She would choose _anything_ but the Legion. And Graham wasn’t exactly anything. _More like everything I have left,_ she thought before dismissing the thought and calling herself stupid.  
   
“And to be honest, if not for all these things you told me, I wouldn’t even consider trusting you. I wouldn’t have trusted Iulia with anyone’s life, so trusting her with all these people’s?” He shook his head. “But I think I can learn to trust Ash.  
\- What have I done to make you believe I’m better than Iulia?  
\- You cried because you realized you were going to hurt the tribals. You may despise them, consider them _profligates_ , but you care about them. Even the slightest,” he said. “And because I think I understand you even better than you do.  
\- That’s easy, considering how much I don’t understand myself.”  
   
She heard something that sounded like a laugh coming from his hidden mouth. She brushed her hair and sighed. They were both monsters, discussing how much of a monster they still were at the moment. It would’ve been hilarious if it weren’t depressing. Her shoulders lowered and she shook her head.  
   
“Look at us, trying to see how the less trustworthy of us. Why are we even fighting? We should just surrender to Lanius and pray death to come quickly.  
\- If we do that, we fled the Legion for nothing. We’re still the monsters we were.  
\- Aren’t we? I don’t think I’m any different from the beast I was, back then.  
\- Because we’ll always be monsters,” he said. He kneeled in front of her. “Alone in the world. But at least, if we destroy the Legion for good, we’ll be alone together.  
\- That’s… Sappy, Graham,” she couldn’t help but smile. “Really fucking sappy.  
\- But you know it’s true. There’s no hope of survival for any of us without the other.”  
   
 _We’re getting so fucking mushy._ She almost felt awkward, looking at him in the eyes. It felt like some serious declaration, something that was so much not like them. Something that didn’t make sense right now, as they were surrounded by heavily armed forces ready to destroy them.  
But as always, it made sense. She had killed Vulpes because the thing she saw in his eyes when he looked at her wasn’t her. She had killed Boone because the thing he saw in her when he stared at her eyes wasn’t her. She had destroyed the Fort because she couldn’t see her true reflection anywhere. She was restless, unable to find peace because this reflection of her true self seemed to be nowhere to be found. Graham had made her even more restless, but it all seemed so natural now: all of this because she’d found herself in him. His eyes were reflecting the woman she really was without distorting her, without trying to curb her. She guessed it was the same for him. Accepting it felt so good, natural. So soothing.  
   
And because it seemed as natural, she slipped her hand around his neck, close to his jaw, and pressed her lips on the bandages that covered his mouth. Under the fabric, she felt his lips moving, trying to reach her. The feeling was weird, frustrating but she settled for this weak ersatz of a kiss. His eyes, closed, and the hand in her hair revealed that he probably felt the same.  
   
“So…” He murmured against her face, without opening his eyes. “Let’s say I trust you with this. Don’t prove me wrong.  
\- I’ll try not to.  
\- You better, yes.” She wanted more. She wanted him naked on the carpet and she wanted him deep inside her, filling the gap in her heart just like he did hours ago. “I’d better get ready, then. I should be going at first light.  
\- Do it, before I rip these clothes of yours and forget about Lanius.”  
   
He almost pushed her aside and stood up to go back in front of his desk. She shook her heard, trying to get rid of all the impure thoughts and images that rushed in front of her eyes. _Not now, fuckass._ She rose too and walked toward the main cave.  
She stopped there. She wanted to say something. She had to say something, anything, in case one of them had to die before the end of the coming battle. _This sounds just as sappy as him._ When she tried to continue to walk, she felt her stiletto at her ankle reminding her of its existence. _I can’t take it with me._ She had to play the abducted woman – Joshua Graham would _never_ let her have such a dangerous weapon if she was really held back. She took it, turned and returned it in her hands. She gulped. _Now it’s my time to trust him._ She took off the holster and went back to him. She handed him the whole package. He took it without a word, glaring at the shining blade. She cleared her throat and searched for words, for something to tell him.  
   
“Don’t die, Joshua Graham,” she finally said. It sounded like a threat. _Nailed it._ “And if you do, keep my seat warm.  
\- Where we’re both heading, we won’t need anyone to keep our seats warm. I’ll see you in the camp.  
\- Or on the other side.” She smiled. “Lanius will ask me to prove I’m not an agent sent by you.  
\- Do whatever you have to do.”  
   
He nodded. And eventually she left. She went to her tent, where nothing had moved, nothing had changed. Funny, how things could turn a drastic turn without anything changing around them. She took the bags that contained her weapons and emptied on her bed. She wouldn’t be able to take them with her. Maria, her sniper rifle, the machete and everything else had to stay here. She sighed. Without them, she would feel naked. Defenceless.  
She took her backpack and emptied it too. She had to take the minimum, water, maybe a knife, some food and that would be all. When she carried it on her shoulder, it felt like before, when she woke up as Six and had nothing with her but a bullet in the brain. _I’m starting anew. Again._ She looked around. It was all she was going to take with her. She was wondering if she was supposed to wear the clothes she was wearing when she arrived – her Legion uniform, or if she could keep the combats she was wearing when she heard someone scratching at the door. She turned and saw Follow-Chalk entering. He looked ill at ease, worried. _Is he scared of fighting?_  
   
“I’m sorry if I disturb you,” he said. “But I don’t know when you’re going and I didn’t want to miss you.  
\- You’re not disturbing me. I was just getting ready.  
\- Daniel told us that you were going to infiltrate their camp and that you’ll open their doors to a vanguard.  
\- It’s the plan, yes.  
\- It’s very dangerous.  
\- I’m used to dangerous things,” she smiled. “And don’t worry, I’m not going to let you down.  
\- I’m not worried about that.”  
   
He shrugged. His face was covered with paintings, more than usual. _War paintings,_ she guessed. It still repulsed her, but she couldn’t help but find them… Oddly beautiful. They probably meant something. They were _meant_ to repulse and scare people. Her entire life she had learnt to despise tribes and their primitive ways of living and she thought it was fair because they had _nothing_ to teach. They had everything to learn, they were the naked proof that humankind had degenerated. But she also had learnt to understand that Caesar wasn’t all-knowing and that he more often said lies than he said truths.  
 _Maybe they have things to teach, finally._ And maybe she had things to learn. No, not maybe. It was obvious. In these wild lands, she had everything to learn. She knew how to fight, how to lead men into battle, how to kill and how to make people suffer – she knew nothing of the simple life they were living. Harvesting lands, collecting water, raising child were unknowns for her. _Maybe I could stay for a while after this battle. It could be useful when I’m going east._ Or maybe she was lying to herself to save face. Everything in the way Chalk was looking at her begged her to come back after the Legion’s demise and stay with them. He was worried for her. _Innocent, if there is such a thing,_ Daniel had told her about the Sorrows.  
   
“Don’t worry for me, then. I can deal with them.  
\- After what they did to Joshua, I’m not sure anyone can deal with them,” he noted. “You’re sure you don’t want to go with someone?  
\- I can’t, Chalk. I have to do this alone.  
\- Alright… Alright.” He nodded slowly. “Then I guess we’ll see each other tonight. I’m part of the vanguard.  
\- Are you?” She felt her chest tightening with something like… _Concern?_ “You’ll be careful, right?  
\- If you are.”  
   
He smiled. She returned him his smile, genuinely. _I don’t want him to die._ He was a child, untarnished by the Legion’s horrors. He didn’t deserve that. She sighed and walked toward him. She was thinking of shaking his hand but he opened his arms and hugged her. She tensed, stunned, and froze. He was a bit taller than her, but he was slimmer than Graham. It didn’t feel the same, being in his arms or in Joshua’s. _What am I supposed to do, now?_ She put her arms on his naked back and tried to relax. _I owe him that, if he has to die tonight._ She closed her eyes and pressed herself against him. She never been this physical since… Since… _Birth?_  
When he stepped back, he was gleaming with joy, as if she had been giving him the most precious gift he had ever received. She nodded and waved him goodbye. _Farewell?_ No, goodbye. She would see him in a few hours, when all of this would be almost over.  
   
And hours passed, and passed. And someone came to tell her that the sun was rising. She took her bag and walked out of her tent. She froze when she realized that the two tribes were gathered in the cave, waiting for her to go. She gulped and crept between the dozens of people surrounding her. When she reached the entrance of the cave, she turned to look at them all, searching for Graham.  
And he was there, staring at her from the bottom of the cave, next to the entrance of his own. He was arm-crossed. Motionless. His eyes were shining furiously. _He doesn’t want me to go._ But it wasn’t a trust issue. He didn’t want to go. Period. _I don’t want to go either, pal._ She didn’t want to go and never returned, or return to find that he would never. She nodded slightly. He did the same. And she went out.  
   
The first lights were making the valley glow. It was beautiful in its own right, but she didn’t have time for sightseeing. Since the sunlight was still dim, she could see the lights of the camp. It was even closer than she had thought. _I have to go. Now._ So she walked and didn’t look back. She kept the dirt that soon covered her face – she had to look like someone who had just escaped a monster. When she got close to the camp, she started to run as if her life was threatened. _And it is, actually._  
It didn’t take long for scouts to spot her and surround her. She raised her arms, genuinely gasping and panting and threw her bag to the nearest legionary. He emptied it on the floor. A kitchen knife, a bottle of clean water and a bit of food. He glared at his superior who walked toward her, his weapon in hand.  
   
“Who are you, woman?  
\- You don’t recognize me, Spectulator?” she spat out, lowering her hands. _Say it. Say her name._ “I’m your Caesar.  
\- Cae…” His eyes widened, as well as everyone’s eyes around him. He fell on his knees, in the dirt. “I beg pardon, my Dame, I didn’t think you… You…  
\- I want to see Legate Lanius.  
\- But how…  
\- Are you making me waste my time?”  
   
He shook his head violently before going back on his feet. _This game doesn’t amuse me anymore,_ she thought when he ordered his men to escort her to the Legate’s tent. She followed them, while analysing the surroundings. The camp was large. Not as large as the Fort, obviously, but large anyway. But what leapt to her eyes was the amount of injured men. Some were just scarred, but others were completely disfigured, covered with bandages. _You’ll meet fellows, Graham._ The fire she had lit had broken many of them and the way they looked at her expressed how much they were traumatised by what happened. She hadn’t just destroyed the Fort and a huge part of the Legion; she had destroyed their home, their bearings, everything they knew since childhood for some of them.  
She entered Lanius’ tent without scratching. He was looking at a map – a home-made one, most probably, given his vagueness. Probably extorted from one of the scouts they had tortured. _The one that didn’t return._ She hoped he was dead by now, because what was coming to him if he was not… She didn’t even want to imagine it. She cleared her throat. He turned to her. _God I almost forgot how huge he was._ There was a reason why she’d sent him in Arizona, far, far away from her. He could crush her with his fist, his _bare_ fist. And with his mask, it was completely impossible to predict his reactions. He didn’t bow his head before her. He didn’t move at all. He only dismissed the praetorian that were guarding his tent. She waited for them to disappear before speaking.  
   
“Legate. Glad to see you kept the Legion together while I was… Busy.  
\- Busy?” His raw voice sent shivers down her spine. “So this is how you call being abducted?  
\- Joshua Graham is a beast, Lanius. One can only hope to expect his reactions… And actions. He struck us when we were the weakest, after Vulpes Inculta’s betrayal.  
\- What happened that night, then? When I returned to the Fort, it had burned and you were nowhere to be found.”  
   
 _More like, I was nowhere to be found and the Fort burned._ She sighed with a perfectly faked anger. She walked to the map on the desk, keeping a safe distance between Lanius and her. He was playing the obedient soldier, but she knew better. He was already suspecting her of being part of Graham’s plan to attack them – but she also knew that he could be easily convinced. Words were never his weapons, they were hers only. _And Vulpes’._  
   
“Vulpes had been turned by Graham, during the weeks he disappeared from the Camp before the Battle of Hoover Dam,” she said with contained rage. “He wanted to kill me, then take the Legion for the Burned Man. I managed to take him down, but not Graham.  
\- And he abducted you? Why didn’t he kill you, if he wanted the Legion?  
\- Because he wanted legitimacy. He wanted to turn me in his favour.  
\- Did he manage to do it?” He came closer to her. She could feel his bloody breath. “Are you here to negotiate his life?  
\- Have I heard this right, Legate? Are you implying I have betrayed the Legion? _My Legion?_ ”  
   
She didn’t move; she just raised her chin. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew where they were, approximately. She wouldn’t have his trust without being who he was expecting her to be: the ruthless heir Caesar had praised before every each of his advisors. So she gave him what he wanted. She slipped her hand at his side and stole his knife to threaten him. She had no idea where she had to put the knife in order to correctly slit his throat beneath the mask and between the different parts of his armour, but she held it close to his chest. He didn’t try to take it away.  
For a long time, he stared at her, or she believed he did. Then he called out for his men and ordered them to bring the prisoner in his tent. She tried not to gulp too visibly and watched the entrance of the second scouts – the one that didn’t have the chance to die like the other. He was barely standing, but she saw in his eyes that he recognized her. He was probably part of the group that saved her from the White Legs’ remnants. She didn’t look away from him. Whatever she was going to do, she owed him to look at him in the eyes. _And Lanius will understand everything if I don’t._  
   
“This man, as well as one of his fellow tribal, was found wandering around our camp,” Lanius finally said after a while. “We released the second one so that their... People would know what was coming to them.  
\- I know. This is how I understood you were there.  
\- We don’t know what to do with him. Since you’re back, the decision is yours.” His voice was deep. Dark. Full of innuendos she knew only too well. “He’s been quite useful, since he told us everything about their camp.”  
   
 _Useless,_ she thought. The fact that he’s been cooperative or not wasn’t supposed to interfere with her decision. She wasn’t supposed to be merciful because he gave away precious information. Because he wasn’t part of the Legion and, foremost, because he was a tribal following Joshua Graham’s lead. She kept the knife in her hands and walked toward the scout. Two praetorian were holding him so that he would stay on his knees in front of her.  
 _I could slice his throat._ Painless, easy, fast. But it wouldn’t satisfy Lanius and everything would be over, her life as well as everyone in the caves’. _I could stab him to death._ Violent. Still too fast. He would probably lose consciousness in the instant. _Beat him with my bare fists._ Not like her. She slightly smiled. She knew the only way but she couldn’t admit it. She had destroyed the Fort because she couldn’t do it anymore, and she was going to do it again. She threw her knife away and turned to Lanius. She hardened her voice, her gaze.  
   
“Crucify this profligate. Let his fellow degenerates see his body.”

 


	8. VIII

**Heaven from Hell**

* * *

**VIII**

She visited the camp with Lanius for the rest of the day and listened to everything he told her. Their forces were drastically reduced – the fire had killed most of the men regrouped in the Fort, and what remained of those who had survived wasn’t really useful. Almost all of them were injured, some of them were still between life and death. Most of the actual forces were the legionaries Lanius had taken with him in Arizona. _The best decision you ever took,_ she told him. _You bet it is,_ she wanted to retort. She just nodded.  
At the doors of the camp, exactly where the tribes could see it, they crucified the scout. She had ordered it to be as painful as possible. She had smiled when they had him nailed to the wooden cross. Inside, she was crying. Screaming. Begging for his life. But her face was stuck with this cruel, sadistic smile that she wore only too well. She felt Iulia waking up, she heard her whispering that nothing had ever felt this good. But it sounded empty. It was like hearing some child blabbering inanities and nodding to please him. It wasn’t her anymore. It wouldn’t be her anymore.  
   
When they went back in the Legate’s tent, she sat on the nearest table and glared at Lanius. He wouldn’t sleep with his mask on. The slaves he used to share his bed with had told her, when she was still living in the Fort, that he only allowed them to enter his tent when it was pitch black, so that they couldn’t see his face. It would be easier to kill him. _And I will be able to see his face when I’m finally ending his life._ The thought felt incredibly better than the pitiful screams of the crucified tribal.  
   
“We’re attacking them tomorrow at dusk,” she announced. “They will be preparing for the night and we’ll blindside them.

\- Why not tonight?  
\- We’re not ready. I saw the troops, they think it’s going to be an easy fight. They’re not even faking it.  
\- You said it yourself, they’re profligates. There is nothing to fear in them.  
\- You forget about Graham.”  
   
He nodded, slowly. He was only a couple of hours away from his death and he had no idea what was coming to him. _It would be funny if it wasn’t the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done in my life._ In her head, everything was planned. She would wait for everyone to be sleeping and she would open the gates. Graham’s men would enter, kill the officers while she took care of Lanius. Then… Then it would depend. Either the legionaries would understand that they had to yield and there would be not useless blood, or they would try to fight. And eventually lose.  
 _What if it doesn’t go as planned?_ Of course, she had thought about it. The possibility that everything would go wrong, for whatever reason. At the thought, she repressed a shiver. She would have to betray them all to save her life. To kill them. Stand with the Legion. Stand with Lanius. She was staring at the flickering flame of the nearest torch when she remembered Graham’s eyes, those sky blue eyes. _They’re not like Vulpes’._ Vulpes’ eyes were ice blue, almost grey. Graham’s were of the purest blue. _I can’t betray them._ But it wasn’t about choosing. It was about surviving.  
   
“Why didn’t you kill him?” He didn’t have to say his name. “Why didn’t you try?  
\- You think he would still be alive if I had had any chance of putting him down?  
\- You came here with a knife. Caesar trusted you to kill him, if I remember correctly.  
\- He did. And Vulpes and I tried our best.” She frowned. “What are you implying, Lanius ?  
\- This kind of wordplay is your privilege, not mine.”  
   
 _Lie._ But a rather true lie, though. He was testing her, the way Caesar himself tested the men he didn’t trust. But the truth was, once he started doubting someone, there was absolutely no way he would trust him again. She knew Lanius thought the same – she didn’t care. He would be dead by tomorrow’s first light.  
   
“Once we’re done with this,” she continued. “We’ll go back to the Mojave.  
\- The Fort is destroyed. Where would we settle?  
\- We’ll start again. If Caesar managed to create the Legion, I may as well rebuild it.  
\- You’re not Caesar.  
\- Neither are you, Legate, and still you’re questioning and lecturing me. Be glad I’m not my father, for he would have had you crucified for your arrogance.”  
   
Her voice was icy. He didn’t react, but it wasn’t out of mockery. Everyone in the Legion knew she _never_ did idle threats. The first time she’d threatened a soldier, she was so young that everyone around thought she was just trying to use Caesar’s name. Two days afterwards, the soldier had been found on the floor of his tent, his throat cut from ear to ear. When brought to Caesar to explain her crime, she only said that he had injured her honour and that she did what she had to in order to preserve it.  
Since this time, she never really had to threaten anyone to be obeyed. The Frumentarii were completely devoted to Vulpes and her, perhaps even more than to Caesar, and her reputation preceded her within the Legion’s ranks. Lanius was another kind of man, but he couldn’t ignore it. And he didn’t.  
   
“You’ve been expressing doubts about me, even if you pretend you didn’t. Now speak, I command you.  
\- You bark worse than you bite, Iulia.” She gritted her teeth. “Or whatever name you want to use now.  
\- Caesar works just fine. And you have no idea how hard I bite, Lanius.  
\- I think I do know,” he retorted. His voice was so low that he sounded like a ghost. “But anyway, I shall see it tomorrow.”  
   
 _You bet you’ll see it._ She didn’t look away, staring right at the black holes of his masks, those that hid his eyes. _Another technic, then._ She started to smile and paced the room, her arms crossed on her chest. If there was anything Legate Lanius hated, it clearly was comparison. And if there were any comparison he hated more than anything, it was Graham’s. And it was pretty clear why; he would _never_ be half of the man the Legate Malpais was. He wasn’t as clever, wasn’t as smart. Wasn’t even half as talented in strategic matters. He was a brute, and even if it was the reason why Caesar had given him his title, it didn’t make him any more equal to Graham.  
It was her last night as the leader of the Legion. It was the Legion’s last night. It was Legate Lanius’ last night – why so serious, then? She wasn’t going to let him think that he could control her, even for a second. She would be the last leader of the Legion. The maker and the destroyer, or sort of. _Let’s play._  
  
“You should be careful, Lanius. Last time a Legate failed the Legion, we tossed him down the Grand Canyon in flames.  
\- I didn’t fail the Legion.  
\- You did. Or else I wouldn’t be there. We wouldn’t be there, far from the Mojave, the dam lost to the NCR and our Fort destroyed.  
\- I was in Arizona, where you sent me.” He was almost choking. “I couldn’t…  
\- You couldn’t? Well, Graham couldn’t possibly know that the NCR was capable of such a plan, could he?”  
   
Not a move. Not the slightest. He wasn’t going to attack her – she was entirely right. _Now you shut up._ He just needed to be reminded of his failure. He just needed to remember he was supposed to protect the Legion when she couldn’t. To protect her. She had a weapon against him, something to keep him leashed for the night, until the very moment she would be able to slit the leash and his throat.  
Lanius was a grown-up man, a dangerous grown-up man. But he was so honour-oriented that he didn’t even think of setting her packing. He wouldn’t have dared to do it with Caesar, so why with her? He couldn’t possibly know how weaker she had grown, by Legion’s standards. _Or stronger, by any other standards._  
   
“We’re done,” she announced. “You may leave.  
\- You’re in my tent, Caesar.  
\- Then you may leave to another part of the tent.” She frowned. Again. “It’s big enough for the two of us, isn’t it? Or maybe you’d prefer to share it with the last officers we have?  
\- At your command.”  
   
He bowed, but there was some kind of an automatism in this move. He disappeared from her sight behind a curtain door. _Now you feel a bit less confident, don’t you?_ It felt damn good to put him down on his knees. Too bad she had other things to do than just enjoying the moment.  
She waited a couple of minutes before reaching the armoury. She pretended she wanted to check the weapons the Legion had at its disposal. She picked the sharpest knife she found, as well as the best machete. She hid both of them under her jacket and saluted the guards. They bowed as she walked to the entrance of the camp. Perhaps they noticed she acted weirdly, on a rush. Perhaps they didn’t. In any case, it was probably the last time she saw them and she didn’t even care.  
   
It was pitch black. The moon was reduced to a thin crescent, barely illuminating her path. But the camp had been made like the Fort, and she knew the Fort by heart. Back when she lived there, she could walk it blindfolded by night, without even tripping on the smallest root. And so she walked, practically blind, to the entrance guarded by two soldiers. She was going to pass the gate when they put themselves in her way, stopping her awkwardly. She raised an eyebrow.  
   
“Legate Lanius ordered us to keep everyone inside the camp for the night,” they explained. “He didn’t mention you…  
\- I am your Caesar, soldier. What gives you the right to stop me from going where I want?  
\- The Legate…  
\- The Legate is as much under my commands than you are. Now let me go. It is an order.  
\- My Dame, I regret but…  
\- You leave no other choice, then.”  
   
She sighed and swiftly stabbed the one that was blocking her. He gasped, trying to understand what was going on, and collapsed in front of her. The other one, chocked, tried to get to the air horn. She slipped behind him and slit his throat. He gurgled and fell as well. She looked at the two bodies losing blood and consciousness at her feet. The first deaths of a long series. The night was still young.  
She stepped over the first one to pass the gate. There was nothing around her, nothing visible at least. But she knew they were there, waiting for her signal. She whistled. Some bushes moved and ten heads appeared in front of her. She recognized Follow-Chalk. He was the first one to walk to her. She greeted him.  
   
“You enter the camp. Be as discreet as possible, I need some times to put down the officers and the Legate,” she ordered. “Begin with the first shack. Everyone’s sleeping. No useless noises, am I clear?  
\- Yes ma’am.” He nodded. “Graham gave me a message for you.  
\- That is?  
\- He told me that under the law almost everything is purified with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins. I’m not sure to understand it.  
\- You don’t need to. Go and make him proud.”  
   
He smiled – she could tell by the flashing she saw when he revealed his teeth, and entered the camp with his forces. She followed them immediately, trying not to think about Graham’s message. He must have known what she had done to the scout. He must have known how painful it had been to crucify him, to watch him suffer without doing anything. _He’s trying to console me._ His way, his biblical way, but he was trying to ease her pain. _This man’s going to be the death of me._  
But for now, she had to be the death of many other men. She headed to the officers’ quarters. They weren’t many; most of them were dead, and half of those who remained were injured, crippled or crazy. In the tent, there were only four of them, sleeping soundly in the assurance that nothing could happen to them inside a Legion camp. _How wrong._ She didn’t wait for them to wake up. She didn’t put on the light. She slipped next to them and, one by one, she cut their throats. Once done, they did some kind of a deathly choir of rumblings and rattles for a second before silence returned. She looked at them for a second. They didn’t have a face, in the dark. They didn’t have a name. _You’re dead. Go salute Caesar._  
   
Outside, she could hear some soldiers panicking and trying to blow the horns. They never reached them. She ran to Lanius’ tent. Nothing could be heard from here. She entered it and smiled. The torches were alight. Remembering her Frumentariius training, she walked as lightly as possible, making no audible sound and entered Lanius’ room.  
It was dark. Of course, it was. His mask was put on the desk. She opened the curtain-door so that light could flow inside. And she saw him, she saw his face. And somehow, even if it was _better_ than Graham, it was more disgusting. Everything was broken, while Graham’s face was structurally intact; his jaw was blocked in a weird angle, he couldn’t properly close his mouth. One of his arcade was completely fucked-up, and the bones had knitted over his eye. His skull was bashed in, so the top of his head looked like a deflated balloon. Some of his teeth must have been shattered, since he was wearing gold dentures. It wasn’t human anymore. He wasn’t human anymore. _Just like Graham, his physical features reflect the depth of his soul._ And it was even more frightening than former Legate Malpais. It wasn’t just broken: it was destroyed.  
   
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and climbed over the bed, over him. He opened his eyes – his eye, and tried to attack her. Swiftly, she stabbed his two arms. He groaned and stopped moving when she pressed her blade against his throat. He was already bleeding. She could feel the sheets getting soaked with his blood. And she was smiling. She probably was the first and only woman who ever smiled at the top of him. And she was the first and only woman who ever threatened him. _And it feels damn good._ It was revenge, for all these years of unease and fear that something would cross his mind and lead him to attack her, in front of Caesar, without any fear of sanction. Well, she wasn’t going to fear him after that.  
   
“How does it feel, Lanius, to know that after all these things you’ve done for Caesar, his own daughter is going to kill you?  
\- You fucking whore,” he uttered. “I knew you were…  
\- You knew but you did nothing. You obeyed me, like the rest of those degenerates. Like Vulpes.” She laughed. “And he knew, too. But you’re weak. Authority with the tiniest bit of legitimacy breaks your minds.  
\- You think you’re going to win against the whole Legion? You’re nothing but a disgrace, you…  
\- The whole Legion, are you sure? I burned a great part of it, remember? Graham will do the rest.”  
   
Her voice had grown darker and darker, while his eye grew blurry. He knew his death was coming and he probably accepted it; but to know she was the reason why everything occurred? _He thought Graham had turned me._ No one, including him, could ever think she could, alone, turn her back on the Legion, _her Legion._ Her family.  
But she remembered an old tale the slaves had told her, when she was young, about another Caesar, back before the War. He was an emperor, the greatest one of the whole world, when the world wasn’t only made of these lands around Vegas. He had a son, whose name was Brutus. And one day, Brutus killed his father to take his throne. He died, they said, killed by the other rivals of his father and thus Caesar was avenged, in a way, by his former enemies. _How could have I forgotten this?_  
   
Iulia was the legendary daughter of this Caesar, a loyal and virtuous woman. Perhaps this is what Caesar wanted to have, when he named her. But instead, since he wanted a son, he got Brutus, the instrument of his death. But she was already dead at this point; Iulia, or Brutus, was already dead, killed by both Boone and Vegas, enemies of Caesar.  
She smiled. She was so much more than a figure of legend. She was _so much more_ than Caesar’s daughter, than the leader of the Frumentarii, than the Courier 6, than every name they all had given her. And she was becoming what she was supposed to be since the very beginning: a free woman, free of bonds, hierarchy, past and memories. _And this woman is going to be born tonight. In your blood._  
   
“Any last word for the posterity?  
\- You cunt, I hope you die in so much pain that…  
\- I said ‘last word’,” she sighed while slitting his throat. “Not ‘last speech’. Bid my respects to Caesar.”  
   
He tried to answer but he only gurgled. She tilted her head and stayed like this, sitting on his chest, watching blood flowing out of his neck. It was a terrible spectacle; it was an incredible one. She could feel the coppery taste of his blood in her mouth, on her lips, and it awakened old memories. But somehow it didn’t hurt as usual. It felt distant, as if it wasn’t her memories but those of an old friend. A sibling.  
She knew that when she would wake up, those memories would have come back. That her sleep would forever be haunted by those images of slit throats and dead soldiers, by those sounds of battle and death, by this taste on her tongue. But for now, it felt like a rebirth, another one. _Now I’m truly Ash-Skin._ Now the Legion was no more, and Iulia as well.  
   
And it felt so good that she didn’t hear the footsteps that came closer and closer. She didn’t realize someone was watching her from behind, from the curtain door. Her eyes were closed in ecstasy, her hands were still clinging onto her knife, soaked in blood.  
   
“It is over, Ash,” she heard behind her. She opened her eyes but didn’t turn her head. “He is over.  
\- I know.  
\- Why are you still here, then?  
\- I fear that, if I leave this tent, the bliss will stop and I will go back to the same old fears.  
\- That will probably happen at some point.” A hand on her back. Her shoulder. “But one cannot dwell on dreams. You’re no exception.”  
   
 _He’s right._ He was always right. He would always be. But she didn’t want to feel the same hollowness, the same… Sadness. She didn’t want to look at him and remember none of this had really changed anything. _But it had!_ No, it had not. But that wasn’t the point. Her soul was beyond saving. Nothing could change it, mend it, erase what she’d done. He had told her, she now had to live with it, whatever the price.  
But she obeyed. She turned her head to meet his eyes. His blue, piercing blue eyes that looked like other eyes she’d lost herself in. But those blue, piercing blue eyes didn’t reflect who she used to be. They reflected the broken, bloody, damaged woman she’d grown into and it looked right. Wrongly right, but right still. She smiled and took his bandaged hand in hers. It was covered in blood as well.  
   
“So now we’re going home?  
\- First, we have to deal with the remaining soldiers. Then we go home.”


End file.
